


Dance With Me

by ConnectingSmallDots



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Based off Juanjoltaire, Break Up, Caramel things, Dancing, I deleted the original work by accident, Les Amis - Freeform, M/M, Nightmares, RP fanfiction, rain kisses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-30
Updated: 2014-02-20
Packaged: 2018-01-10 15:00:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1161064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConnectingSmallDots/pseuds/ConnectingSmallDots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off work by Juanjoltaire.<br/>Enjolras catches Grantaire dancing under the streetlights and then they're both dancing and then it's raining... then they kiss.</p><p>Chapter Three: Things go too down hill to go back up easily.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dancing Under Lamplight

**Author's Note:**

> Apologises for doing this but I pressed delete for entire work not one chapter. Oooooops.
> 
> [This is Enjolras]  
> {this is grantaire}  
> (and this is Jehan. X)

Real authors don't get distracted - Becca

[We all know this isn't true but she said this while I was being annoying and she wanted to get me to stop staring at a guy in the library and do some writing.]  
\--------------------------------------

Grantaire hums quietly, waltzing around the streets in the lamplight, arms out like he's dancing with someone. A specific someone.

Enjolras is just heading home from the café - he stayed late discussing Polish politics with Feuilly - when he spots someone familiar in the streetlamps' lights.

Grantaire continues dancing, unaware he's being watched. Under his breath, he's singing the words to the song he's dancing.

Enjolras frowns slightly, recognising the waltzing figure as Grantaire, and tentatively approaches. "Grantaire?"

"Enjolras." Grantaire greets, still dancing until he does a double take. "Enjolras!" He stops, a blush rising to his cheeks faster than he hoped it would.

Enjolras is still watching him with slightly narrowed eyes, looking puzzled. "What are you doing?" 

"Nothing. I was just uh..." Grantaire looks at his feet, embarrassedly. Of all the people to have caught him.

"Dancing?" Enjolras finishes for him, still looking rather bewildered.

"Uh, well, yeah." Grantaire stammers, shifting his feet awkwardly. "I didn't think anyone was..."

"I am." Enjolras replied, shifting his satchel slightly at his hip. "It's late."

"That's why I thought no one would be out." 

"Evidently your assumptions were wrong."

"Yeah." Grantaire breathes out slowly. He looks up at Enjolras like a naughty puppy caught in the act of chewing slippers.

Enjolras looks back at him for a moment. "What dance was that?"

"It's a waltz. I don't normally dance the ones with fancy names." Grantaire explains shyly, pulling his earphones from his ears.

"No tangoes or rhumbas for you?" Enjolras replied, raising an eyebrow. "Why are you dancing at this hour?"

"Do I need a reason to have a little fun?" Grantaire shrugs with a sudden burst of confidence before it slides away again.

"No, but- you're dancing on your own, that can't be much fun."

"There's no one to dance with."

"There's me." Enjolras replied, before blinking in surprise at his own comment.

Grantaire looks mildly stunned for a moment. "You'd want to? You'd dance with me?"

"I don't see why not. I must remember something from when I was younger." Enjolras replied simply.

"Alright. You better hope so because I'm not such a great teacher." Grantaire smiles- although his mind is a great bit mess of thoughts- and takes a step forward so he's closer to Enjolras.

Enjolras nodded slowly, before awkwardly putting his bag on the floor and taking Grantaire in hold. 

Grantaire laughs a little. "Oh no you don't." He reaches into his pocket briefly and unplugs his earphones to play his music out loud before moving Enjolras' hand to his shoulder. 

Enjolras just 'hmpf'ed in response, letting Grantaire guide his hand to the right position before holding his other one.

"Seeing as you want to be the man in this, you step forward and I step back, yes?" Grantaire explains quickly, trying to think of an easy way to describe it that may jog Enjolras' memory.

"Yes, I think so." Enjolras replied, running through it in his mid quickly. "That makes sense."

"Surprisingly, most of the things I say do." Grantaire points out before counting the beats under his breath out of habit.

"Some of them do." Enjolras argues, shifting his hold slightly so it's more comfortable before straightening his back. 

"No. All of them." Grantaire grins before taking a step back, tugging Enjolras gently to get him to move too.

"Very few." Enjolras replies sharply, stepping forward as Grantaire moves back.

"Fine, most of them." Grantaire reasons, laughing slightly as they waltz around the streets. It feels almost film like.

"How about one every year?" Enjolras keeps glancing at his feet as he dances, but he's okay otherwise. Grantaire is mildly tempted to let go and tilt his chin up every time.

"Once a week."

"Six months."

"Fortnight."

"Three months and that's final."

"Alright but you do realise I can't make sense for three months now." Grantaire grins, surprisingly calm while waltzing with the man he's in love with. It's rather surreal.

"No, I challenge you to only make sense for the next three months." Enjolras retorted, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh that's no fun. Here we are, dancing in the streets of Paris under the lamplight and you're basically telling me to be serious?" Grantaire laughs and moves his head forward so their noses are almost touching. "I am wild."

Enjolras blinks, Grantaire's eyes suddenly slightly out of focus due to the nearness they've achieved, and he can't deny the nervous twist in his stomach. "I see."

"Good." Grantaire says, regretting getting so close as the song ends and they stop. 

Enjolras stops as the music does, only leaning back slightly so he can actually see properly.

Grantaire looks up as the first drops of rain land on his head. "It's raining." He states, still holding Enjolras close to him.

Enjolras looks up for a moment, then back at Grantaire. "Yes, it is."

"Do you ever get the urge to do something very stupid?" Grantaire asks quietly, looking at Enjolras with a look he hopes doesn't show too much of the adoration currently circulating through him.

"I usually do it anyway." Enjolras breathes, hardly daring to look away from the other.

"I'm glad you agree." Grantaire murmurs before possibly making the stupidest move of his life as the rain starts beating down: he kisses Enjolras.

Enjolras is pretty sure his brain shuts down as he feels Grantaire's lips on his own, the only thought running through his head being: oh. 

"Was that stupid? That was stupid." Grantaire lets go of Enjolras, talking mostly to himself. He runs a hand through his now soaking hair and takes a step back.

Enjolras frowns slightly, both because Grantaire looks sad and because his hair is sticking to his forehead. "No, it wasn't, I-"

It takes Grantaire a few moments to process the words 'it wasn't' before he retraces his steps and kisses Enjolras again.

Enjolras manages to respond properly that time, despite the fact he was mid-sentence, placing his hands gently at Grantaire's hips.

Grantaire feels like he never wants to pull away and the world is melting around them. If anything could feel perfect, this would be right up there in the nominations.

"It was you." Grantaire says quietly against Enjolras' lips. "I was dancing with you before the real you showed up."

"Oh?" Enjolras replies simply, his face still mere inches from Grantaire's even though he definitely can't make out the details yet. Maybe he can find his glasses and study his eyes properly. They're a nice colour.

"Yeah oh." Grantaire smiles, his arms winding around Enjolras' neck, half to remind himself Enjolras is there and half to stop himself from collapsing because his knees feel so weak it's ridiculous.

"That's... I didn't realise." Enjolras says a bit stupidly, because his brain still isn't quite working. 

"That's why I told you." Grantaire brushes Enjolras fringe away from where it's stuck to his forehead with his thumb. "How am I the one still coherent?"

"I- kissing is a new thing." Enjolras replies, like that explains everything.

"What? No ones ever- you haven't- I'm your first?" Grantaire looks surprised because he genuinely thought that someone else would have picked up on the perfection standing millimetres in front of him.

"Now you're incoherent. No, I have never been kissed before." Enjolras' mind seems to be a bit quicker now, he notes with some pleasure.

"Sorry, I just thought someone better than me might of..." Grantaire trails off, as the rain begins to slide down his face.

"Better?" Enjolras repeats, but he lets it go. "I have had people..interested, let's say, but I wasn't." 

"Well, I suppose that makes me special then." Grantaire jokes.

"You are." Enjolras replies, pausing before taking his hand gingerly.

Grantaire looks down at their hands before looking back up at Enjolras. "I was going to do that." He complains but he's smiling.

"Sorry." Enjolras apologises, not sounding even slightly sorry.

"And as much as I would love to happily stand here in the rain with you all evening, we should probably find cover before we catch some disease Joly forever frets about."

"We're not going to catch a disease from the rain." Enjolras argues, but he nods. "My flat is only five minutes away if you want to..dry off there?" 

"Considering I live further away, that would be lovely." Grantaire bends down to retrieve Enjolras' bag from the floor where he'd placed it. "Monsieur." He says, holding it out.

Enjolras rolls his eyes, but he takes it, slinging it over one shoulder. "Merci, Monsieur."

"To the palace of Apollo." Grantaire grins before he starts running, pulling Enjolras along with him and- purposefully- running through every puddle he can manage.

"To the flat of a politics student who is not called Apollo." Enjolra corrects him, running beside him but avoiding the puddles as much as he can. "Stop jumping in puddles!"

"Never. I have the mind set of a five year old and the responsibilities are even younger." Grantaire kicks a puddle at Enjolras which actually makes no difference to how soaked they both are.

Enjolras kicks water back at him without hesitating, shaking his head. "Can't you act like you're at least fifteen?"

Grantaire pretends to think and lets go of Enjolras hand to swing round a lamppost- a habit he gained after watching 'Singing In The Rain' with Cosette and Éponine one evening.  
"Uh, no." He concludes.

"And now you're doing the film thing. Is your life just one big musical?" Enjolras asks, sticking his hands in his coat pockets to fish his keys out as they approach his flat.

"How I would love that..." Grantaire grins, skipping back over to Enjolras' side. "Unfortunately, I would probably die some tragic death in it because I'd find it more interesting that way."

"You wouldn't be able to find it interesting because you'd be dead." Enjolras points out unhelpfully.

"That's true." Grantaire nods slowly and then shivers violently. "Ugh, I'm freezing now."

"You can take a shower when we get in, just hang on." Enjolras replies, stepping up to his door and unlocking it.

Enjolras pushes the door open, putting his keys away. "In we go."

"Go we in." Grantaire flips the sentence structure before stepping inside, smiling at how Enjolras the flat it.

"Yes, very clever." Enjolras deadpans, following Grantaire into his mostly tidy flat except books and papers stacked in various places.

"I know." Grantaire picks up a sheet and reads it, his eyes skimming the words. "Ah, politics."

"I do study it and pursue it in my spare time." Enjolras replies in way of explanation, taking the paper from him and putting it down.

"I was merely commenting on the vast abundance of politics." Grantaire shrugs, hands still out like he's holding the sheet even though it's been removed.

Enjolras puts the sheet down back where it was, his face still expressionless. "I like it."

"And I like you. Shower?" Grantaire runs a hand through his hair and wipes his hand on his shirt.

"Yes, go and have a shower. I'll make some coffee." Enjolras replies, turning to the kitchen.

"Enjolras, I don't live here. Where is the shower? Which towel can I use? Do you have any spare clothes?" Grantaire lists some questions, head tilted a little.

"The bathroom is the first door on the left, use a towel from the airing cupboard, wear anything from my wardrobe within reason." Enjolras answers simply.

"Corsets?" Grantaire jokes, poking his tongue out the side of his mouth as he grins.

"I don't own any corsets, Grantaire." Enjolras replies, raising an eyebrow. "How do you have your coffee?"

"Like my soul." Grantaire answers, heading towards the bathroom. "Black."

"No sugar?" Enjolras calls back as he takes off his coat. 

"Nope!"

\-----------------------------------------

Grantaire emerges from the bathroom a while later, drying his hair with a towel in a white shirt and black jeans. "I decided against the corset in the end." He says, announcing his presence.

Enjolras jumps, suddenly torn from his book by the sound of Grantaire's voice as he looks up. "Excellent. Where did you find those jeans?"

"Back of the wardrobe." Grantaire shrugs. "I don't ever remember seeing you wear them either but they don't look new."

"I lost them. Evidently at the back of my wardrobe." Enjolras replies simply, pointing out where he's left Grantaire's coffee on the counter. 

"Evidently." Grantaire takes his coffee and sips it. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." Enjolras sips his own, looking back at his book. "Nice shower?"

"Lovely thank you. My shower isn't nearly as good as yours." Grantaire sighs.

"Sorry about that." Enjolras responds, glancing up for a split second. "Feel free to use it as and when you wish." 

"You make coffee and offer showers. Isn't that sweet?" Grantaire grins before yawning. It is around 10:00 now.

"Sweet isn't a personality trait I've ever had or desired." Enjolras retorts, his brow furrowing slightly.

"No but it happens to be one you have." Grantaire says. "Is it still raining?"

"Can I sit on your counter? Yes, ok." Grantaire pushes himself up onto the countertop, not waiting for a reply.

"No." Enjolras replies, but looks up to see he's done it anyway. "Never mind, then." He puts his book down behind him, crossing his arms.

"What do we need to talk about then?" Grantaire asks, although he knows what they need to discuss.

"Us." Enjolras responds bluntly, his voice calm though his eyes are slightly widened.

"It's a two letter word used in first person to describe the user and other persons." Grantaire responds quickly, grinning. "Sorry." He adds. "I often do that to Éponine to annoy her."

Enjolras narrows his eyes slightly at that. "You know that's not what I meant."

"I like being difficult." Grantaire shrugs. "But you have questions, yes?"

"I have plenty of questions." Enjolras replies, but he doesn't voice any of them yet.

"Are you going to ask or shall I get off the counter first because I am not starting the awkward discussion thing."

"I'm going to ask." Enjolras says resolutely, but he pauses. "We... kissed."

"Yes." Grantaire nods.

"Yes." Enjolras repeats, wasting time. "Are we- what's going to happen now?"

"Well, what's your opinion on dating?" Grantaire asks; he knows a fair few people who don't date.

"I don't particularly have one." Enjolras replies, frowning slightly. "I think there's more to life than romance, however."

"Yes because politics. I know. The question was more would you want to date me?" Grantaire says and then turns red at how blunt he posed it.

Enjolras' cheeks turn a little red too, because he'd considered that many times but never come up with an answer. "I suppose so."

"It's a yes or no question."

"It's an I don't know question."

"Well, either way I'm a teeny bit in love with you and would very much like to be your boyfriend." Grantaire says, no longer caring about how blunt he is.

Enjolras raises his eyebrows slightly, looking surprised. "You would?"

"I kissed you, didn't I?"

"Yes." Enjolras admitted.

"So, Enjolras, would you like to be my boyfriend?" Grantaire slides off the counter and stands in front of him.

Enjolras hesitates, considering the gravity of what he's about to do, before nodding. "I would like that."

"That's good because it would be very awkward if you didn't." Grantaire grins.

Enjolras smiles back slightly, his teal gaze meeting Grantaire's. "A bit."

Grantaire hums quietly before pressing a quick kiss to Enjolras' cheek. 

Enjolras smiles slightly, though his cheeks were still dusted red.

"What's the time?" Grantaire asks, yawning again.

Enjolras checks his watch. "Twenty to eleven. Do you need to go home?"

"I have work in the morning so I need sleep but home is optional." Grantaire says, secretly hoping he can stay.

"Is that you asking to stay the night here?" Enjolras retorts, raising an eyebrow.

"Only if the answers yes and if its no, I shall claim my heating is broken." Grantaire laughs, finishing his coffee.

"The answer is yes." Enjolras replies, shaking his head though he's inwardly rather pleased.

"Hurray." Grantaire says before deadpanning. "I mean, thank you for your hospitality while my flat undergoes issues."

"You're welcome." Enjolras turns then to the door, mentally running through what spare bedding he has. "Do you want to sleep on the sofa or the bed?"

"Whatever's easiest for you. I warn you I'll probably be up at five due to terrible sleeping habits." Grantaire rubs his eyes, the whole discussion of sleeping making him realise how tired he is.

"Well, sleep wherever, I don't care." Enjolras replies- he probably won't sleep easily, either.

"I shall take that as permission to share your bed then. Lovely." Grantaire grins but waits for confirmation before he moves.

"Go ahead." Enjolras says, shrugging. "I won't sleep for a little while yet."

"Thanks." Grantaire stretches before wandering out the kitchen to the bedroom.

"Where did you put your clothes?" Enjolras asks as he heads to the bathroom himself.

"In the sink because they were actually dripping. Is that alright?" Grantaire leans against the doorframe to look questioningly at his boyfriend. Enjolras, his boyfriend. That's going to need some getting used to.

"That's fine." Enjolras replies, pushing back his damp hair as he opens the door. 

"Okie dokie." Grantaire doesn't move for a moment because he's too busy contemplating the word boyfriend and Enjolras in the same sentence.

Enjolras is evidently oblivious to this inner struggle, because he just steps inside and gets in the shower.

Grantaire sighs before slipping into Enjolras' room. He picks his way round the paper work carefully, lifting the odd piece up to examine it.

Enjolras showers quickly but takes his time once he's done, drying his hair and finding some clothes from the wardrobe in his room.

Grantaire, by this point, his curled up on one side of the bed, staring silently at the wall.

Enjolras returns to his room, his hair a fluffy mess. "Grantaire?"

"Hmmm?" Grantaire hums, looking over and smiling slightly at his hair. 

"Are you alright?" Enjolras asks as he sits on the edge of the bed.

"Oh, yeah I'm fine." Grantaire knows it's rather obvious he's lying but he really doesn't want to explain he's been snooping.

Enjolras narrows his eyes slightly- he might be oblivious often, but he's not stupid.

"Oh don't give me that look. I am fine." Grantaire shakes his head and laughs a little. 

Enjolras just hums, eyeing him carefully.

Grantaire lays his head back down on the pillow, facing away from Enjolras.

"You're not fine."

"I feel guilty." Grantaire gives in but he doesn't roll over.

"Why?" Enjolras' brow is furrowed, and he's thoroughly confused by this.

"You know when you see something you weren't meant to and it bothers you but you really weren't meant to see so you can't say anything and you feel guilty for seeing." Grantaire says quickly. "It's that."

"That." Enjolras repeats, frowning. "What did you see, Grantaire?"

Grantaire curls up tighter, bringing his knees into his chest.

"Grantaire." This time Enjolras' tone is fiercer, because he's just remembered a letter from his parents that's still on his desk.

"Can I tell you when it's stopped raining? I really don't want to be kicked out while its raining." Grantaire murmurs, knowing full well that's what's going to happen by Enjolras' tone.

"I'm not going to kick you out. What did you see?" Enjolras presses.

Grantaire tucks his head away but two words of his sentence are audible; "letter" and "parents".

Enjolras sighs. "You saw the letter my parents sent me?"

"Yes but it's still raining." Grantaire runs a hand over his face to remove the tears. He shouldn't be crying, he chides himself, he's being stupid again.

Enjolras' expression doesn't soften as he sees the tears, but as he stands up his tone is more gentle. "How much did you read?"

"I stopped after the word faggot." Grantaire says quietly.

Enjolras pauses. "Not far, then."

"I'm sorry."

"I wouldn't bother wasting emotion on them."

"I'm wasting emotion on you though." Grantaire laughs but his voice wavers. 

"Why is that?" Enjolras asks coolly, but he's a little irritated by that answer. It sounds like something his father would say.

"Because I'm crying like a moron for reading about thirty words." Grantaire shakes his head. "God, I'm ridiculous. Why did I think I could do this?"

"Do what? This whole relationship thing?" Enjolras challenges. "Because that's what you want, or so you said."

"I do. I really do. That came out wrong. I didn't- I- look. I really really like you and I have for ages but I just don't understand how you could like me when I mess up all the time." Grantaire confesses, self-doubt creeping its way back into his head.

"You don't mess up all the time. But most people do mess up occasionally- a human issue." Enjolras replies, letting his irritation fizzle away slowly.

"If I mess up permanently, does that make me non-human?" 

"No." Enjolras says simply. "We're all human."

"So you don't hate me?" Grantaire replies hopefully.

"No. But I would prefer you not to read my private letters in future." Enjolras says.

"I'm sorry." Grantaire's voice sinks again to a level that he would describe as broken.

Enjolras just hums vaguely, moving to the desk to pick up the letter again. 

Grantaire uncurls enough to swing his legs off the side of the bed and get up.

Enjolras puts his reading glasses on to read his father's sloped script, narrating it aloud. "Dear Alexandre, your mother and I are incredibly disappointed in your recent actions... news of protests... accept your social ranking..."

"Just read it to me, sure." Grantaire murmurs, throwing his hands in the air.

Enjolras looks at him over the top of his glasses. "It's not all homophobic. Some of it's complaining about how the working class should stay in their place, too. And of course the usual disappointment only son wasted education tropes."

"If you don't mind me saying, I think your parents need to figure something out because I think their only son is perfect." Grantaire leans against the wall, watching him.

Enjolras' cheeks flush slightly red, but he shakes his head. "Nobody can be perfect. Besides, as long as I remain not a lawyer or doctor and I'm not accepting their bourgeois way of life, I'm a failure to them."

"But does that bother you?" Grantaire asks curiously, folding his arms.

"Not particularly. You could say my rebellious teenager stage hasn't ended yet, and mostly likely never will." Though it has indeed calmed since he was living with them.

"Well, don't do anything stupid to your hair or face then. I did that once, never again." Grantaire shakes his head, putting the previous events to one side and ignoring them. He's good at ignoring things.

"Oh, I did. I had red hair for a little while." He's not going to mention the tattoo though. "Enough of parents, however." 

"Remind me to ask Courf for pictures. You with red hair?" Grantaire grins.

"I didn't know Courfeyrac then. No photos from Combeferre." 

"No photos meaning he has none or I'm not allowed to get said photos?" Grantaire crosses over to stand beside Enjolras.

"He has none." Enjolras replies simply. "I think. It was only for one summer, and we met Courfeyrac in the September of the same year."

"I'll find one. You watch. Éponine works wonders." Grantaire laughs and then yawns. "I'm actually going to pass out if I don't sleep soon; sorry."

"Sleep, then." In truth, Enjolras is a little tired himself, and he doesn't have much more work to do. 

"Yes, sir." Grantaire says, kissing Enjolras cheek before going to lay back down.

"Don't call me sir." Enjolras says, but he sounds amused as he lies beside him.

"Sir or Apollo? Take your pick." Grantaire blinks slowly, the corners of his mouth turned up into a small smile.

"Neither. I would frankly rather you called me Alexandre, and we both know how I feel about that." Enjolras settles down, pulling the duvet up. 

"Apollo then." Grantaire decides for him and reluctantly closes his eyes. He misses looking at Enjolras lying beside him almost instantly.

Enjolras sighs, but doesn't say anything more as he closes his eyes. "Goodnight, Grantaire." 

"Goodnight, Enjolras."


	2. Caramel Things and Tension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A super long chapter where all sorts of cute things happen and the end gets darker.

What's worth everything but you get for free?

Air!

[Becca doesn't quite understand riddles but it is right I suppose. The correct answer is love.]  
\-----------------------------------------

When Enjolras awakens, he finds he's entangled himself with both the blanket and Grantaire. He quickly moves a little bit away, so as not to intrude further.

Grantaire hums rather disapprovingly at the distance despite being 80% asleep still.

"Grantaire?" Enjolras' tone is both questioning and slightly disoriented- he's not a morning person.

"No, Jehan. It's too early." Grantaire murmurs. "I don't have work until 9."

"I'm not Jehan." Enjolras isn't sure whether to be offended by the comparison or not - he supposes with pale skin and light hair, they look similar.

Grantaire opens his eyes slowly and hums before closing them again. He then opens his eyes again. "Oh. Morning."

"Morning." It's still a bit surreal, this whole relationship thing, Enjolras muses as he looks back at Grantaire sleepily.

"It isn't anywhere near 9, is it? I really do not want to get up." Grantaire sighs, slowly realising he was previously cuddling Enjolras. 

Enjolras rolls over to check the time, before looking back. "It's seven thirty."

"Good." Grantaire smiles before closing his eyes again. 

Enjolras smiles back slightly, though it's wasted on Grantaire because his eyes are shut again. He sighs and shifts slightly closer.

Grantaire tries to think of something witty to say but he doesn't. He just allows Enjolras to shift closer. I could get used to this, he thinks.

Enjolras settles himself comfortably next to Grantaire, closing his eyes.

Time seems too pass to quickly for Grantaire and it feels like minutes before he decides should probably get up to go to work. "Enjolras?" He says, opening one eye.

"What is it?" Enjolras asks sleepily - he'd been slowly sinking back into sleep until then. 

"Sorry but I should get up now." Grantaire says, shifting away so he can get up. "Do you want me to make you some breakfast before I go?"

"No, I can do it." Enjolras says, opening his eyes and sitting up slowly. "I don't have class until midday."

"Alright." Grantaire shakes his head and leans forward to press a kiss to Enjolras' forehead. 

Enjolras smiles slightly at that, a slight red tinge creeping across his cheeks. 

"I'll go see if my clothes are dry." Grantaire smiles back before slipping out the bedroom, shutting the door gently.

"If they're not, you can borrow some." Enjolras calls after him, getting up as the door closes.

Grantaire checks his clothes to discover they're dry. He changes his shirt but leaves the jeans because he rather likes them.

Enjolras makes his way out to the kitchen, rubbing his eyes, though his hair is still a fluffy, tangled mess.

Grantaire emerges from the bathroom and dumps his stuff by the front door before heading to the kitchen.

Enjolras is making some toast by this point, leaning against the counter waiting for the bread to toast. "Do you want some toast?"

"Nah, I eat at work. Some coffee would be nice though, if you don't mind." Grantaire leans against the door frame, smirking at the state of Enjolras' hair.

Enjolras flicks the kettle on in response, ignoring the smirk on Grantaire's face entirely.

"You really are not a morning person." Grantaire laughs, unable to stop himself.

Enjolras narrows his eyes slightly at that, shaking his head. "No, I'm not."

"Luckily for you, I am." Grantaire grins.

"Fantastic." Enjolras says dryly. He's not a morning person, but he gets up early most days anyway.

"I know I am. Thank you." Grantaire laughs. He pulls his phone out his jacket pocket to check his texts and take a picture.

Enjolras just shrugs, finding two mugs as the kettle flicks off.

"Jehan sent me a message saying if I was at the bottom of a ditch drunk then he'd sell my artwork to pay the rent. How rude." Grantaire says, typing out a quick reply.

"He's a sensible man." Enjolras says as he pours hot water into both mugs, which now have coffee in them. "Are we going to tell the others?"

"Can if you want." Grantaire shrugs, taking a mug. "Ta."

"That's not a clear answer. Do you want to?" Enjolras picks up his own mug, sipping it.

"If we don't, they'll just guess. It depends on who we want to win the bets." Grantaire says calmly because his friends betting on his love life is normal.

"They've placed bets?" Enjolras asks, putting his mug down to sort out the toast. 

"Obviously." Grantaire finishes his coffee and sets the mug down. "I hear Courfeyrac was planning on setting us up soon too so he could win."

Enjolras huffs, shaking his head as he finds a plate. "They are ridiculous."

"It would be no fun if they're weren't." Grantaire retorts and checks his watch.

"Life might make a little more sense." Enjolras argues as he sits down.

"Who needs sense when you can have friends?" Grantaire shakes his head. "I better go. I'll text you later." He kisses Enjolras quickly before leaving the kitchen.

Enjolras is momentarily dazed by this kiss, but he calls 'goodbye' after him.

\----------------------------------------

{if a panda was set loose in paris, would it survive?}

[No.]

[I'm at work. I don't care about your panda.]

{it's a hypothetical panda and it was bahorel's question.}

{no one would give me a panda to look after in the first place honestly.}

[Tell Bahorel that the panda would die, then.]

{why though? how would it die?}

[It'd probably be hit by a car or the Métro, if it ended up there.]

{but people wouldn't purposely hit it and they move so slowly anyway.}

[A panda would not survive in Paris. End of discussion.]

{your work cannot be more interesting than a panda in paris though.}

{it sounds like a little kids book.}

[No, but my work is putting me slowly but surely into a horrible mood.]

{awwww. are you going to be grumpy now? because that's no fun.}

[If one more person orders a skinny latte with the caramel thing and a croissant, I think I'm going to throw it at them. Never has a shift been so dull.]

{challenge accepted.}

{wait, where do you work?}

[Starbucks. I'm not telling you which one.]

{please. i won't order the caramel thing. i'll just keep you company by staring from the corner.}

{put apollo on my cup tho.}

[Or you could, you know, actually keep me company by speaking to me.]

[More like Dionysus.]

{courfeyrac thinks i'm stalking you.}

{aha. thanks i think.}

[Courfeyrac always thinks that.]

[You're welcome.]

{oh thanks, enjolras.}

[What did I do to earn that thanks?]

{a) it was a sarcastic thanks and b) you let courf call me a stalker.}

[a) I thought so, and b) I didnt]

[let him.]

[Sorry. I had a customer.]

{i wouldn't know because no one will tell me where you work.}

{it's a conspiracy.}

{did they order the caramel thing?}

[What's a conspiracy? Not knowing where I work?]

[No.]

{everyone is refusing to tell me. conspiracy against the poor lonely dropout art student who has loads of jobs but not quite as many as feuilly.}

{shame.}

[Well, I don't know where you work either.]

[Grantaire?]

[Grantaire?]

[I thought you were keeping me company.]

{you know when you do something stupid and it's really embarrassing...}

{i just got a concussion from walking into a lamppost.}

[That's as bad as Bossuet.]

{THANKS FOR THE SYMPATHY!}

[You're welcome.]

{the nurse is rather good looking so screw you, sir.}

{joking. i am joking.}

[Cheated on after not even twenty four hours? That's a new record.]

{i'm joking!!!!!!!!!!!!!}

{ !!!! }

{wait, new record for me or you?}

[Me. I know you were joking.]

{who do i need to destroy for cheating on you?}

[Nobody you'd know. I was fourteen and too busy with my schoolwork to notice he was indeed cheating on me. I don't recall being particularly bothered, we'd been 'dating' for two weeks.]

[I don't know why I told you the whole story.]

{i hope he rots in hell for not realising your perfection and treating you better. xxx}

{the 'x's were to add a cuteness to the message.}

[I can't remember his name. That is how much I care.]

[Thanks.]

{will you tell me where you work yet? :) }

[Starbucks at the end of Rue Plumet.]

{haha! i win.}

{make me a hot chocolate, would ya? i'll be over in five.}

[No.]  
[I have customers to deal with.]

{i'm a customer.}

{i'm ordering in advance because i don't like really hot hot chocolate if that makes sense.}

{if you had customers then you wouldn't be texting me.}

[Tough. You'll have to queue like everyone else.]

[I'm texting between orders.]

{that's rubbish. can't i have special boyfriend privileges?}

{i don't like queuing.}

[No. You're going to queue.]

"Fine, then I'm having the caramel thing." Grantaire smiles, leaning on the counter. "Hello."

"You're not really having the caramel thing, are you?" Enjolras asks, raising an eyebrow. 

"Depends. How annoying would it be on a scale of one to ten?" Grantaire bites his lip to stop himself from laughing.

"Five hundred. Do not order the caramel thing."

"It's tempting you know but hot chocolate's fine." Grantaire grins. "You do realise I've been sitting in the back the entire time, yes?"

"No." Enjolras replies, turning to make a hot chocolate. "I didn't."

"You do now. Little secret, I always come here after work before your shift starts despite how creepy that makes me." Grantaire shifts his bag on his hip, looking at the queue behind him. "I hope someone orders the caramel thing."

"I hope your canvas and paintbrushes all break." Enjolras retorts, not looking round. "So you did know I work here?"

"Of course I did. However I wasn't lying about the panda. I think it would survive."

"You could have just showed up." Enjolras pointed out, setting the cup on the counter.

"Prior to about fifteen hours ago, I was under the impression you hated me." Grantaire shrugs, pulling the correct change from his jacket pocket. "When's your shift end?"

"Why would I hate you?" Enjolras asks, taking the change and putting it in the till. "I finish in two hours."

"As much as I'd love to sit and stare at you, duty calls." Grantaire takes his cup and blows Enjolras a kiss.

"What duty?" Enjolras asks suspiciously as he leans on the counter, making his green apron crease. 

"What duty?" Enjolras asks suspiciously as he leans on the counter, making his green apron crease. 

"I don't know. I'll let you know when I find one." Grantaire answers, pushing open the door and leaving with a fair degree of- what Courfeyrac would describe as- swag.

Enjolras just sighs and turns to deal with the next customer.

"Was that your boyfriend?" She asks after giving her order, grinning. "He's really cute."

Enjolras pauses for a second, glancing at the door. "Yes, he is." he answers. "To both statements."

\----------------------------------------

"That's not going to work." Grantaire pipes up from the corner, his feet on the table and bottle in hand. His eyes haven't left Enjolras all meeting- except when Bahorel and Feuilly broke a table.

Enjolras pauses where he's about to launch into their alternative method, but he raises an eyebrow and turns to face Grantaire. "Why?"

"You're relying on everything else to run smoothly but there's no way you could manage all that in time." Grantaire shrugs, unfazed by all the eyes now on him.

"Then we will take extra time to make sure everything does run smoothly."

"Extra time won't help. You won't be able to do it." 

"Maybe if you'd been listening properly, you'd realise we will be able to." Enjolras snaps.

"Listening properly?" Grantaire raises his eyebrows. "What makes you think I'm not?"

"Because you clearly don't have enough of a grasp of the situation." Enjolras leans forward on a table, glaring at him.

"I think it's just that I have more than you because I can see where it will fail. You won't be able to do it, end of." Grantaire folds his arms.

"I say we will. You are just too cynical to have hope that it will end well!"

"Then I say you're wrong. As much as it pains your ego, I'm trying to help you out here." Grantaire swings his legs from the table, putting his feet on the floor with a rather loud thump.

"You're not helping!" Enjolras snaps back, his glare fierce and judging. "You're only telling us we're going to fail."

"Which, because I'm right, is useful and will save you time and lives." Grantaire is very close to getting to his feet, his grip on his bottle almost tight enough to smash it.

"Well, instead of only telling us we are going to die, you could point out where we're going wrong!" Enjolras' voice is raised now.

"It doesn't matter where though because you can't change any of the details without other bits collapsing!" Grantaire argues.

"Then at least point out what we need to change so we can organise the rest!"

"For a start, you can't have men at the beginning because that's too obvious and people will get too suspicious. But removing them will just leave a gap that you can't fix because that road only has two exits."

"We can have men at the beginning because we want it to be obvious for a change- people will follow." Enjolras argues.

"Does no one ever listen to me?" Grantaire sighs, tilting his head back. "The people are too scared to simply get up and follow."

"No, they are not!" Enjolras shouted back. "They will rise."

"Like a wave on a beach, Enjolras. The second someone fires it will be chaos and they'll lose it." Grantaire puts his bottle down slowly.

Enjolras was silent for a moment, taking a long breath. "They will help even if they do not fight."

"But this is a fight. There is no way that it won't end up as a fight and that's what makes the people so scared because they don't want to die!"

"Do you think we're going to just throw lives away like toys, Grantaire?"

"Yes. Currently I think you will." Grantaire gets to his feet slowly, his chair scraping back.

"You think I will." Enjolras repeats, both offended and angered by that. "You think I'm going to just let people die?"

Grantaire takes a deep breath, preparing himself for whatever his answer is going to cause. "Yes." 

Enjolras is silent, furiously so, for a moment or two. "You are ridiculous."

"Ridiculous and willing to die for you but not willing to let you die when I can prevent it."

"None of us have intentions of dying or indeed letting others die for us."

"Of course." Grantaire pushes past him to the door. "If you'll excuse me, I need to punch a wall."

Enjolras takes a deep breath, refraining from saying 'I need to punch you' or 'I need to kiss you'.

Grantaire closes the door and leans against the outside wall; it's cold but not cold enough to quench his anger. He manages to tear the skin from his knuckles with one blow.

Enjolras sighs and turns to Combeferre, who looks not in the least bit surprised and just gestures to the door.

The cobbles outside are still wet from the rain last night but Grantaire doesn't really care, holding his hand to his chest.

Enjolras sends his best friend a look he hopes gives off the right vibe of annoyance, but goes to the door.

Grantaire isn't crying. Definitely not, no. He's just being stupid again. "Why do I bother caring?" He asks himself out loud.

Pushing the door open, the blond takes a moment before spotting Grantaire by the wall. "Grantaire?"

"You don't have to apologise if that's what this is." Grantaire responds quietly, staring at his shoes.

"I wasn't going to." Enjolras replies flatly. "Combeferre sent me here."

"Sorry."

"I think you were being unreasonable."

"I'd of used worse terms but alright." 

Enjolras is silent for a moment. "You could help us further."

"By being generally obnoxious and cynical?"

"No, by actually pointing out the problems in the first place."

"I'm sorry."

The blond sighs. "Just think about what you say before you say it."

"Yes, mum." Grantaire finds something inside that allows him to make the small joke.

"Father." Enjolras corrects, though he regrets it, because that reminds him of his own father. "Never mind."

"Do you want me to go home?" Grantaire gets up slowly, only using one hand.

"No- what did you do to your hand?"

"I wasn't joking about punching a wall. I've done it before."

Enjolras resists a sarcastic comment, taking Grantaire's bloody hand in his own long fingers.

Grantaire tries very hard not to wince, pulling his hand back. "It's fine."

"It's not fine." the leader argues. "You're bleeding."

"I do that a lot." Grantaire shrugs. "It's nothing."

"We need to bandage your knuckles up." Enjolras continues despite Grantaire's protests.

"Generally it's better to leave wounds to seal on their own," Grantaire points out but he gives in, "but you won't let me not so."

"I don't care." Enjolras argued, his gaze flickering up to meet Grantaire's.

"I know you don't." Grantaire smiles, a mixture of happiness and sadness.

Enjolras just hums, his lips pressed into a thin line.

"Staring at me isn't going to fix my hand or the self-hatred in my heart." Grantaire points out.

"Plasters can fix your hand. We'll figure out your heart."

Grantaire sighs and takes a step forward to press their lips together. "Thank you." He says, stepping back and disappearing back inside.

Enjolras follows after a moment, letting the door swing shut behind him.

Grantaire weaves his way through the students and friends, ignoring the whispers as he heads to the bathroom where he knows the bandages are kept.

Enjolras follows him still, signalling to Combeferre to continue the meeting.

"I know how to bandage my own hand, Enjolras." Grantaire says, opening the cabinet and pulling the bandages out. "You can go back to saving the people and tell everyone in sorry or something."

"I'm going to help you." Enjolras insisted, taking the bandages from him. 

Grantaire sighs, hiding the smile he has because Enjolras is taking care of him. "Alright." He holds out his hand.

Enjolras unravels a bandage and wraps it around Grantaire's hand carefully.

Grantaire stares at Enjolras' eyes. He wonders what he's thinking right now.

Enjolras looks up at him as he finishes one part, tying the ends of the bandage together.

"I'm sorry." Grantaire apologises again as their eyes meet. "I'm an awful friend, let alone boyfriend."

"Don't say that." Enjolras replies, still staring back at him. 

"It's true though so why shouldn't I?" Grantaire looks down at their hands.

"It's not true." Enjolras lets go of the knot he's made for fear of tightening it too much.

"I think it is." 

"What do I have to do to make you aware it's not?"

"I don't know. I don't think there's anything you can do really." Grantaire sighs. "But thank you. I mean it."

Enjolras pauses before pressing a soft kiss to the cynic's lips. "You should believe it."

Grantaire hums quietly. "That helped."

"I can do it more by all means."

Grantaire laughs. "You have a meeting to run first, Apollo."

"This evening, then."

"I look forward to it." Grantaire smiles before shoving Enjolras gently towards the door. "Go be a hero."

"I am no hero." Enjolras says, but he turns to the door. "Finish bandaging yourself up."

"Yes, dad." Grantaire jokes, correcting the gender from earlier.

"You're learning." Enjolras says, smiling slightly in amusement, before leaving.

Grantaire stares at the area Enjolras had been standing in for a while after he's gone, bandaging his other hand absentmindedly.

Enjolras goes back to the meeting, waiting for Combeferre to finish speaking before resuming his previous talk.

Enjolras goes back to the meeting, waiting for Combeferre to finish speaking before resuming his previous talk.

Grantaire considers going back and joining the meeting- and getting a drink- but he decides against it, wandering the empty back corridors.

Enjolras continues, explaining the alternative plan they have.

Grantaire runs his hand along the wall before stopping and pulling a pencil from behind his ear. He sits down on the floor and doodles little, swirling, dark patterns onto the paint work; he knows Musichetta won't mind.

Enjolras finishes the meeting half an hour or so later, collecting his books and papers up.

Grantaire can hear people leaving but he doesn't leave his artwork just yet, sketching little details to the chair in front of him.

Enjolras leaves the room, wondering where Grantaire has got to now.

Grantaire gets to his feet and steps back to admire his drawing. He pulls out his phone to take a picture.

Enjolras steps into an empty corridor, looking around. He's checked the bathroom and found it empty. "Grantaire?"

"Enjolras." Grantaire calls back, dusting off his knees.

"Where are you?"

"Down here."

Enjolras follows the sound of his voice, finding him soon after.

"How was the remainder of your meeting?" Grantaire asks politely.

"Fine, thank you." Enjolras replies. "What are you doing?"

"I was drawing." Grantaire gestures vaguely to the base of the wall.

Enjolras crouches down to see the drawings, looking impressed. "They're nice."

"I have to be good at something." Grantaire shrugs, biting his lip.

"Grantaire- don't you play shortstick and box as well as paint?"

"You know what I mean." Grantaire rolls his eyes. 

"You're good at a lot." Enjolras insists, straightening up.

"Thank you." Grantaire smiles. "I'm also very good at sleeping."

"Everyone's good at sleeping." Enjolras says. Except him, maybe.

"So? Doesn't mean I can't be good at it too."

"Alright." Enjolras holds his hands up in surrender. "The café is closing soon."

"I'm aware. Shall we go?" 

"Yes." Enjolras says as he turns to leave.

Grantaire tucks his phone away and runs a little to reach Enjolras' side as they leave.

Enjolras strides towards the door, pulling it open. "After you."

"Merci, Monsieur." Grantaire smiles and steps outside, refusing to look at the wall he punched.

Enjolras leaves after him, letting the door swing shut in silence.

"Two emotional breakdowns in one day." Grantaire sighs.

"Two?" Enjolras repeats, raising an eyebrow.

"Hmmm. Last night." Grantaire nods, subconsciously gravitating to a lamppost to swing round it.

"Ah. I see." Enjolras doesn't say anything more than that about it.

"Indeed. However, I still have you, yes?" Grantaire is basically horizontal, holding onto the lamppost to stop him hitting the ground.

"Yes, you do. Despite my father's wishes, I am most definitely not going to become heterosexual overnight."

"I don't give a damn what your father thinks, honestly. As I have said, you're perfect." Grantaire grins, letting go to leap across the street to lampposts on the other side.

Enjolras just hums, watching him make his way round all the lampposts in the street. "Are you coming back to mine?"

"If you want me to. I can just as easily go home." 

"Whatever you like. It doesn't make a difference to me."

"Aren't we in a pickle then?" Grantaire laughs, skidding to a halt in front of Enjolras.

"Not particularly." Enjolras says, raising an eyebrow. "Come to my flat or go home. The choice is yours."

"Hang on." Grantaire gets out his phone and checks his calendar.

"Trying to fit it into your busy schedule?"

"Trying to fit it into Jehan's schedule. He gets overly worried even though he doesn't show it." Grantaire runs a hand through his hair and dials Jehan's number.

"Jehan has the others." Enjolras points out, but he quietens when Grantaire calls him.

"What?" Grantaire asks but Jehan picks up. "Heeeey. On a scale of one to ten how much would you hate me if I didn't sleep in my own bed tonight?"

"Depends. Who's bed are you planning on sleeping in?" Jehan answers and Grantaire can picture him twirling the end of his hair around his fingers.

"That is classified information."

Enjolras leans against a lamppost, watching Grantaire for a moment before averting his gaze to the road. 

"Yeah you're fine. Tell Enjolras I say hi." Jehan chirps and hangs up. Grantaire stares at his phone for a moment before sighing.

"Can I just camp at your house for the rest of my life? Jehan says hi."

"Why are you camping at my house? And hello to Jehan too." Enjolras says, putting his hands in his pockets.

"Because when I set foot in my own flat, Jehan will pester me for every detail about us and I can't manage that." Grantaire shakes his head.

"There's not much detail to share. To my flat, then?" Enjolras straightens up, taking a step forward. 

"Mmmhmm." Grantaire nods, half temped to link their arms.

Enjolras nods, continuing to walk. "This is all rather surreal."

"I won't pinch you because I don't want to wake up either." Grantaire agrees, walking beside him.

"Oh, it's not a dream." Enjolras says simply. "Just a reality that's more fantasy than real life."

Grantaire tilts his head, grinning slowly. "Does that mean its almost like a musical?"

"No, it's not a musical." Enjolras replies, feeling that ruined the moment rather.

"Why not? Everyone loves a good musical!" Grantaire skips off again, dancing around the street ahead of Enjolras like a teenage girl.

"Clearly I am not everyone." the leader responds simply, staying at a normal walking pace.

"You don't like musicals?" Grantaire gasps dramatically.

"I have better things to do than watch them."

"I won't even try." Grantaire decides between pirouettes.

"Good." Enjolras' thoughts, however, are mostly that Grantaire looks rather nice doing pirouettes.

"Normally I'd be concerned about pretty boys staring at me like that." Grantaire grins. "You I'll make exceptions for."

"Like what?" Enjolras asked, feigning ignorance though his cheeks were burning.

Grantaire stops, his head tilted and smiling. "Would you like me to show you?" He asks, closing the distance between them with a few steps.

"Go ahead." Enjolras says, his cheeks only turning redder.

"Give me your hands." Grantaire says gently, his eyes never leaving Enjolras'.

Enjolras does as he's asked for once, holding out his hands obediently.

Grantaire moves Enjolras' hands to his shoulders before putting his own hands on Enjolras' hips. "Now, push down or you'll just fall, OK?"

Enjolras' brow furrows slightly, but he does as instructed, pushing down gently but firmly on Grantaire's shoulders. 

Grantaire grins, giving no warning, before he lifts Enjolras off the ground and into the air. 

Enjolras bites back a surprised yelp, automatically steadying himself on Grantaire's shoulders. "What are you doing?"

"Helping you to fly." Grantaire jokes before tilting his head up to press his lips to Enjolras'.

"I could have jumped-" Enjolras' argument is cut off by a pair of lips to his own, but frankly he's not complaining about that.

"Jumping ends in falling but there's no way I'd let you do that." Grantaire explains softly. He's half tempted to take one hand away- he knows he can support Enjolras- just too see how Enjolras would react.

"You have to let me down at some point." Enjolras points out. His balance isn't excellent, and he doesn't really want to be suspended here any longer.

"Physically yes but I'm making a rather romantic point that I'll always be here to support you." Grantaire sets Enjolras down gently.

"Romance isn't my strong point." Enjolras is rather relieved when he's on the ground again, even though it had been nice being held.

Grantaire rolls his eyes. "Not the most grateful of answers but alright." He laughs and kisses Enjolras again.

"Sorry." the blond says, though he kisses him back extra carefully to make up for it.

"Back to yours then." Grantaire breathes heavily when they pull apart, linking their arms.

"Back to mine." Enjolras agrees, letting Grantaire link their arms together as he pulls away.

"It's not raining this time, which is nice." Grantaire muses, staring up at the stars while they walk.

"It is." Enjolras says in agreement, his gaze also focused on the small white dots in the sky.

"Remind me to take you stargazing at some point. There's this really tall tree which is perfect for stargazing." Grantaire says, looking back to the street so he doesn't give himself another concussion from a lamppost.

"That sounds a little dangerous." Enjolras says simply. "But enjoyable."

"The best things in life are." 

Enjolras doesnt reply, but he nods, because he can see the truth in that.

Grantaire smiles, feeling relaxed and comfortable by Enjolras' side.

Enjolras falls silent until they reach his flat, when he fishes his keys out of his pocket.

Grantaire unlinks their arms so he isn't in the way.

Enjolras unlocks the door, pushing it open so Grantaire can go inside.

"Merci." Grantaire says, going inside and standing- rather awkwardly- by the door.

"You're welcome." Enjolras says as he steps inside behind him, shutting the door.

"We'll, I'd certainly rather be here than anywhere else." Grantaire shrugs, leaning against the wall.

"My flat isn't that exciting." Enjolras says as he removes his coat. 

Grantaire refrains from commenting 'its inhabitants are'. "Neither's mine."

"I've never seen your flat. I'll have to trust your judgement." Enjolras moves past him into the kitchen.

"Come over sometime and I'll make you dinner or something. It would be sweet, I think." Grantaire doesn't follow him straight away, too busy thinking about other things to process his absence.

Enjolras hummed vaguely, knowing he usually had too much work to do to go to others' homes. "Maybe."

"I shall take that as definitely and we can have a movie night or something because you work really hard." Grantaire makes a mental note to carry this out when Jehan is out with Courfeyrac to avoid awkwardness.

"I need to work hard just to get the necessities done." Enjolras argues. "Do you want some coffee?"

"Nah I'm alright thanks." Grantaire sighs, running and hand through his hair before sitting down on the sofa.

Enjolras makes himself a mug of strong coffee before sitting beside him in silence.

Grantaire stares off into the distance, thinking about the last time he had a movie night with someone.

Enjolras sipped his coffee in similar companionable silence, staring at the wall.

Grantaire blinks a few times, his thoughts slowing down as he stifles a yawn.

Enjolras looks over as he thinks he hears a stifled yawn, only to find his suspicions have come true.

"Don't look at me like that; I'm allowed to be tired." Grantaire defends himself.

"I wasn't looking in any sort of way." Enjolras protests, taking another sip of coffee.

"Yes you were. It was a did-you-just-yawn-on-me-peseant look."

"It was a vaguely interested look."

"I'll pretend that wasn't-" Grantaire yawns, closing his eyes and dropping his head onto Enjolras' shoulder, "-creepy."

"Let me correct myself: it was a vague 'are you tired' look." Enjolras doesn't stop him from resting against his shoulder.

"Consider this a yes-I-am look. The one with closed eyes." Grantaire brings his knees closer, effectively curling up beside Enjolras.

"Oh." Enjolras says simply, again not stopping him. "I see."

"I don't." Grantaire jokes, almost asleep on Enjolras.

"You have your eyes closed." Enjolras points out, though he can't help but feel this is rather symbolic.*

*(Grantaire can't see the future they're planning, or chooses not to believe in it. Enjolras thinks he's just shutting himself off to the possibilities.)

"That's the point." Grantaire retorts.

"Go to sleep then."

"On you?"

"Let me get my laptop first."

Grantaire huffs, moving his head so Enjolras can get his laptop.

Enjolras reaches forward to pick it up, trying not to disturb Grantaire too much as he settles down again.

"Wake me up if you need me to move." Grantaire says before he lowers his head again.

Enjolras balances his laptop on his knees, pulling up a Word document and hoping his typing doesn't interrupt Grantaire too much.

Grantaire hums quietly, drifting off to sleep against Enjolras.

\-----------------------------------------

"Grantaire!" He can hear screams of his name but he can't move; trapped in his own body. 

"Enjolras!" He's screaming back and struggling internally to get up but everything's so heavy. 

Enjolras pauses in his typing, having found his glasses on the coffee table, as Grantaire jolts in his sleep. "Grantaire?"

Grantaire doesn't understand; the tears running down his face freely in the darkness. Around him is blackness and he can't see Enjolras anywhere.  
"Enjolras?"

Enjolras jostles his shoulder slightly to wake the man, looking concerned. "Wake up."

"You said you'd leave him alone." Grantaire yells as a man appears in front of him. He doesn't have a face but he doesn't need one: Enjolras' father.

"I never said when." The man smiles wickedly.

"Enjolras!" Grantaire screams again, trying to reach out to do something, anything.

Enjolras shakes him more firmly then, his own blue eyes wide. "Grantaire!"

"Please, this isn't real." Grantaire begs, able to hide behind his hands as Enjolras' father advances towards him.

"Dear Alexandre, your mother and I are incredibly disappointed in your recent actions. We did not raise you to fall in love with such worthless scum."

Enjolras isn't entirely sure what to do now- dealing with sleeping people having nightmares isn't his forte. He stands up, supporting Grantaire but still trying to shake him awake.

"This isn't real. This isn't real. This isn't real." Grantaire repeats over the oncoming flow of words. "It's not real. You aren't really here; not now and you don't even know me."

Enjolras hesitates, beginning to panic slightly, before doing what seems logical and hitting Grantaire hard. "You've got to wake up-"

There's a bright white light and everything vanishes. Grantaire opens his eyes, gasping for breath. "It wasn't real." He says more to himself than anyone else.

Enjolras breathes a sigh of relief, loosening his grip on Grantaire's shoulders. "No, it wasn't."

Grantaire's eyes come into focus slowly as he realises Enjolras is standing over him. He lets out a shattered little sob, mostly out of relief.

Enjolras sits back down, closing his eyes for a moment before looking back at Grantaire. His laptop has fallen to the floor forgotten.

"I'm sorry. Did I bother you?" Grantaire pulls a face, shrinking a little under Enjolras' gaze.

"No." Enjolras replies, even if that's a little white lie. "You wouldn't wake up but you kept jolting and mumbling."

"I haven't had a dream that bad for weeks. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be distracting." Grantaire wipes at his eyes with the back of his- still shaking- hand.

Enjolras pauses before taking his hands carefully, clasping them in both of his own. "What was it about?"

Grantaire looks down at their hands, shaking his head. "It's nothing."

"Obviously it's not nothing." Enjolras persists.

"By nothing I mean I don't want to talk about it." Grantaire's breathing is calmer now although he's still shaking slightly.

Enjolras eyes him carefully for a moment, but as he sighs he nods slowly.

"Thank you." Grantaire smiles a little, trying to stop his trembling.

Enjolras mutters something along the lines of 'don't thank me', still looking at him.

"Why shouldn't I?" Grantaire asks. "You're being kind to me so shouldn't I show my gratitude?"

"I haven't done anything."

"You don't need you to. I just need you to be here."

"I can do that."

"See, he's perfect." Grantaire says to Enjolras' father in the back of his mind. "P.E.R.F.E.C.T." 

Enjolras remains silent then, wondering what to say.

It then occurs to Grantaire that he possibly said that outloud; colour rises to his cheeks quickly. 

Enjolras doesn't notice this, still clasping his hands carefully. 

"I don't think I can sleep anymore." Grantaire says honestly, staring up into Enjolras' eyes.

"Don't then." Enjolras replies simply. "Do you want a drink?"

"Not unless it's something strong and alcoholic." Grantaire sighs.

"I don't have any alcohol." Enjolras says unhelpfully.

"Probably best honestly." Grantaire shrugs. "What were you working on?"

"My politics essay." Enjolras replies, though he frowns slightly at Grantaire changing the subject abruptly.

"Which one of the seventy million?" Grantaire smiles, laughing a little.

"Sixty million and five." Enjolras responds flatly. 

Grantaire laughs. "Alright." He nods. "Fair enough."

Enjolras pauses. "Will you be alright now?"

"As long as I don't sleep for a bit, I should be." Grantaire nods. "Thank you."

"The only thing on at this time is teleshopping, Enjolras." Grantaire replies; he knows this all to well due to early morning insomnia.

"Watch some teleshopping then." Enjolras checks the time - it's early morning now. He's spent rather too long typing.

"Have you ever seen a teleshopping programme?" Grantaire asks, his eyebrows raised.

"No." the blond admits, picking up his laptop again.

"This is a 1930s lamp made from copper and iron, engraved with the names of previous owners and dipped in gold with an essence of rainbow dust, only sixty million." Grantaire mocks before taking Enjolras' laptop and putting it back down. "No." He says firmly.

Enjolras takes it back pointedly. "Intriguing. And yes, I only have a little more to go and then I'll sleep, okay?"

Grantaire considers this for a moment before sighing. "Alright. I don't want you to feel you have to stay up with me though."

"You're occupied with your rainbow lamps, I'm sure you'll be fine." Enjolras says, as much to convince himself as Grantaire.

Grantaire snorts. "Rainbow lamps and platinum, life size, diamond encrusted elephants."

"Exactly. It'll only be for half an hour or so more." With that, he settles - albeit slightly uncomfortably - into writing again.

Grantaire watches him typing, staring at the words as they appear character by character on the screen.

Enjolras types quickly, occasionally pausing to check something.

Grantaire finds himself falling asleep again and jolts back up.

"You'll be fine. You said yourself that your nightmares are rare." Enjolras pushes his reading glasses slightly higher up his nose.

"You'll be fine. You said yourself that your nightmares are rare." Enjolras pushes his reading glasses slightly higher up his nose.

"Stop worrying. Whatever it was wasn't real." Enjolras says simply, and resumed typing.

"Not all of it." Grantaire mutters quietly, running a hand through his hair.

Enjolras raises an eyebrow. "what was that?"

"Not all of it wasn't real. At least, I don't think so." Grantaire repeats louder.

"You mean to say some of it was real." Enjolras replies incredulously. "Is it here now?"

Grantaire shakes his head. "Not unless he's hiding in a cupboard somewhere."

"He?" Enjolras presses, his hands frozen above the keys of his laptop.

Grantaire nods once, folding his hands in his lap.

Enjolras just narrows his eyes slightly, his gaze shifting to the cynic. "Who?"

"Huh? No one! Nothing." Grantaire defends quickly, backing up a little.

"I wouldn't say I am so foolish as to believe that."

"I know." Grantaire looks down at his hands again. "It's stupid really."

Enjolras just looks at him expectantly, waiting for an answer.

"Your father. He was hurting you and there was nothing I could do to stop him." Grantaire chokes a little on his last words, refusing to meet Enjolras' eyes.

"I know but he was real. It was everything in the letter and-" Grantaire blinks back tears, "-I'm being stupid again. I'm sorry."

Enjolras pauses. "If the letter is bothering you that much, we can burn it. Or shred it. It's nothing worth stressing over."

Grantaire shakes his head. "I know. That's why it's stupid."

"Just don't overthink it." Enjolras says, like that's easy to do.

"Sure. I'll just turn my brain off." Grantaire frowns, still looking at anywhere but Enjolras.

"Distract yourself." Enjolras replies simply, going back to the last few sentences of his essay.

"Yeah. Right." Grantaire agrees, getting to his feet. 

Enjolras doesn't respond to Grantaire standing up, simply remaining hunched over his laptop.

Grantaire grabs his bag from where he left it and opens the front door. 

Enjolras does look up then, frowning. "Grantaire?" he calls.

"I'm going home to distract myself. Good night... Or morning." Grantaire pulls a face. "Whatever."

Enjolras sighs, taking his glasses off. "Two sentences more and I can help."

"Get some rest, Enjolras. You've done all you can tonight."

"My issues are causing you problems and I feel it is my place to solve that."

Grantaire laughs a little. "Text me later, alright?"

Enjolras sighs, but he nods. "Fine."

Grantaire steps outside and closes the door behind him.

Enjolras lets him go without another word, though he's not too pleased.


	3. Breaking and Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It starts with talking then there's shouting and a closed door but little forgiveness.

Timeskip?

Sure. Where to?

I don't mind.

Not helpful.

\----------------------------------------

When Enjolras awoke the next morning, he was still on the sofa. Evidently he'd remembered to take off his glasses and turn off his laptop, but not go to bed.

Grantaire wakes up on the floor by his bed, shaking and gasping for breath.

Enjolras doesn't get up for a moment or two, but when he does he remembers his promise.  
[Hello.]

Grantaire hears his phone buzz and reaches up to grab it. He sighs when he stares down at the screen and peels the screen protector- now covered in paint- off.   
{hey.}

[I said I'd text you.]

{i know you did. thank you.}

[Are you feeling better?]

{define better for me.}

[Did you sleep?]

{for a while.}

[Define a while.]

{two hours with nightmares.}

[I see.]

{go on, say i told you so... or whatever else you want to say because i left.}

[I told you so.]

{sorry.}

[Don't apologise.]

{i need to. there's many things i do wrong.}

[Stop it.]

{stop what?}

[Being negative.]

{it's honesty.}

[It's negativity.]

{descriptive.}

[Let me correct myself- pessimistic.]

{enjolras. don't.}

[Grantaire, don't.]

{i'm not worth anything- end of discussion.}

[You're worth more than you think.]

{to who?}

[Me, for one.]

{i'm sorry.}

[Why?]

{for inflicting my many issues upon you.}

{and leaving you.}

[You can always come back.]

{i'd have to climb out the window.}

[What?]

{jehan is refusing to let me leave until i've proved to him the red is only paint.}

{it is but he never believes me because i make it authentic looking.}

[I'm on Jehan's side. Why are you painting with blood red paint?]

{it's therapeutic.}

[Blue would surely suffice.]

{it's rather hard to paint you in blue, enjolras.}

[Why are you painting me?]

{i always paint you. you're a very beautiful man to paint.}

[Thank you, I think. But there's more to paint than I.]

{that may be true but i find you far more fascinating.}

{in the least creepiest sense possible.}

[Take a look outside.]

[Jehan's right.]

{out my window or the front door?}

{jehan is often wrong.}

[Either. You must be able find something else to paint.]

[Jehan is also often right.]

{shut up. :/ }

[No.]

{good because i don't want you to.}

[What?]

{i like talking to you. i don't care what about or if we're arguing either.}

[That's twisted logic.]

{how so?}

[Surely you wouldn't enjoy arguing.]

{it used to be the only way to get you to listen to me.}

[It wasn't, you just thought that.]

{you are rather intimidating though.}

[How?]

{even the friendliest lion can kill a man if approached wrong.}

[I'm not a lion.]

{you sure of that?}

[Last time I checked, I was definitely human.]

{when did you check last?}

[I can check now if you like. Ah, yes...still human.]

{either way, i was being metaphorical.}

[Either way, I'm not a lion.]

{yes you are.}

[Stop.]

{never.}

[What are you even doing?]

{lying on my bedroom floor.}

[I see.]

{you don't. not unless you're peering in the window.}

[I'm at home.]

{doing what?}

{dying apparently. you still there, enjolion?}

[I'm working.]

{ugh, you're boring. save me from the evil of jehan scolding me for attacking brickwork.}

[Stop attacking brickwork.]

{i have!}

[Good. And I'm not boring, I'm focused.]

{focusing is boring for me.}

[You have a short attention span.]

{i have a specific attention span.}

[How long, five minutes?]

{depends on what i have to pay attention to.}

[It shouldn't depend.]

{it always does. if i was to talk about football, would that hold your attention as long as the overthrowing of monarchy?}

[I'd just choose not to listen in the first place if it were about football.]

{but you would still have a different attention span.}

[No, I just wouldn't have one.]

{0 vs 300000000000 is a different span.}

[This isn't worth discussing.]

{you made me explain.}

[I regret it.]

{rude. i hope someone orders a caramel thing.}

[You don't mean that.]

{do i not?}

[No.]

{ok then.}

[Don't come and order one.]

{i'm not allowed to leave till jehan comes back because i have to cook him lunch now.}

[Good. Keeping you busy.]

{i'm not busy at the moment!}

[Do something then.]

{like what?}

[I don't know.]

[Look, I have work to do.]

{stop texting me then.}

[Fine. Goodbye.]

{i didn't mean it.}

{enjolras!}

{this is cruelty to boyfriends.}

{ugh, fine.}

\----------------------------------------

Enjolras presses the doorbell of Jehan and Grantaire's flat, biting his lip lightly.

Grantaire turns his music down and sticks his paintbrush behind his ear, wiping the paint down his shirt to get it off his hands. He leaves his bedroom and opens the front door. "Hello."

"Good afternoon." Enjolras draws a blank there, unsure of what to say.

"Is this a purposeful meeting or just general?" Grantaire asks, picking at the paint on his hands.

"Purposeful." Enjolras replies, frowning slightly. "I wanted to talk to you."

"Do come on in then. Jehan's out 'till four but with Courf so probably a little longer." Grantaire steps away from the door to allow Enjolras inside.

Enjolras steps inside, his hands in his coat pockets as he surveys Grantaire curiously.

"I know I promised to cook you something when you came round but I cooked earlier and I'm midway through a piece of work." Grantaire says, watching Enjolras look around.

Enjolras steps inside, his hands in his coat pockets as he surveys Grantaire curiously.

"I know I promised to cook you something when you came round but I cooked earlier and I'm midway through a piece of work." Grantaire says, watching Enjolras look around.

Enjolras nods silently, though that has nothing to do with what he wanted to say. "Am I keeping you?"

"Oh no!" Grantaire shakes his head. "It's fine. I was mostly dancing around to my music anyway." 

Enjolras nods, but he still doesn't look comfortable. "We need to talk."

"Sure. Talk as in 'I can make you coffee' talk or talk as in 'sit down and shut up' talk?" Grantaire asks, smiling cheerfully.

"Grantaire. Take this seriously for once." Enjolras scolds him.

"No coffee. OK." Grantaire shrugs, clearing some of Jehan's work from the sofa and sitting down, gesturing for Enjolras to join him.

Enjolras does join him, sitting beside the artist with an irritated expression.

Grantaire folds his arms, waiting because he has no idea what this is about. He has a few guesses but he hopes they aren't them.

Enjolras takes a moment to think of a decent way of putting it. "You- we argued."

"Oh. Yeah." Grantaire says slowly. He was rather hoping that it wouldn't be an issue.

"Yeah." Enjolras repeats, raising an eyebrow.

"What do you want me to say?" Grantaire asks, leaning back. "Sorry?" His tone isn't harsh more nervous.

"No, we need to solve the problem behind the argument." Enjolras says, like that's obvious.

"You can't stop me having nightmares, Enjolras. It's physically impossible." Grantaire runs a hand through his hair, knocking the paint brush onto the floor.

"I wasn't meaning stop!" Enjolras protested, frowning crossly. "I meant explaining. Maybe I can help."

Grantaire closes his eyes and sighs. "Look, I understand that you want to help but there's nothing you can do."

"Why not?" Enjolras challenges. He wants to help, in any way he can.

"Talking about my problems-" Grantaire makes quotation marks with his fingers,"- doesn't work. Ask my old therapist."

"Well, what else is going to work?"

"I don't know! You think I sort out my problems normally?"

"Yes!" Enjolras cries incredulously. "How else?"

"Why do you think I spend so long drinking, Enjolras? How many problems do you think I have that I can't solve?" Grantaire seems calmer on the outside, his voice level.

Grantaire's calmness is infuriating to Enjolras - how is he taking this so lightly? "There's more than drink!"

"Don't you think I know that? Do you not think I've tried?" Grantaire can feel his voice growing louder.

"Im saying try harder instead of drowning yourself in liquor!"

"Try harder. Sure." Grantaire smiles wryly.

Enjolras stays silent at that, seething.

Grantaire's smile slides from his face. "Look, I'm sorry. I don't want to argue with you like this."

"Neither do I, do you think I'm enjoying this?" Enjolras demands.

"Enjolras. Calm down." Grantaire says slowly, trying hard to stop himself from taking the bait.

"I'm trying to help and you're just shrugging it off as if it's no big deal!"

"Enjolras. Enough." Grantaire says firmly. "I don't need your help and I don't need you to be so condescending either."

"Condescending?" Enjolras repeats, though his voice is anything but calm by this point.

"I am capable of handling my own issues. I'm twenty-three, for Christ's sake."

"Oh, so capable that you've turned to killing yourself slowly with alcohol!"

"I don't need you to tell me what I'm doing wrong." Grantaire bites his bottom lip. "If this is all you came to do, I think you can leave now." He says quietly, looking down.

Enjolras takes a breath, his hands clenched into right fists, but he says nothing.

Enjolras pulls his hands back slightly, his gaze never leaving Grantaire's. "Who says you have to do it alone?"

"I do because I made them so I can fix them." Grantaire tries not to show the hurt when he pulls his hands back.

"That's not how problems work, Grantaire."

Grantaire gets to his feet and disappears into the kitchen. This is getting ridiculous now.

Enjolras stays where he is, with the exception of getting to his feet. This is going excellently, he thinks bitterly.

Grantaire comes back out after various smashing sounds. "Are you satisfied now I've drained it all?" He asks, hands on his hips.

Enjolras raises an eyebrow incredulously. "You have not just smashed it all." 

"Feel free to check. Jehan limits the alcohol we keep in this house to a few bottles for cooking." Grantaire steps aside to allow Enjolras to check.

Enjolras does check, moving past Grantaire to go into the kitchen. 

"This is really not how I envisioned your first visit here."

"Neither did I." Enjolras says as he surveys the shattered glass. 

"It's so nice to know you trust me, too." Grantaire can't help himself from commenting.

Enjolras resists the urge to turn round and argue, settling for staring at the countertop.

"I'm also truly sorry that you think the only way to get me to do things is by yelling." Grantaire adds, turning around to sit back down again.

Enjolras scowls, and he does turn around then. "It worked." he remarks. 

"It's also going to get you kicked out unless you give me a reason I shouldn't." Grantaire retorts coolly.

"I'm helping." Enjolras says flatly, but he simply steps past Grantaire and towards the door. If he's leaving, he's doing it on his own terms.

"I don't call this helping. You've just created a problem." Grantaire points out.

"I've also solved one." the blond fires back, his voice dangerously near to angry again.

"Tipping three bottles of wine down the sink hardly solves anything." 

"You won't drink any more at least until you buy some more." Enjolras says crossly.

"Oh wow. Like that's going to be long when I have you to cry over now!" Grantaire gets to his feet.

Enjolras just scoffs, as if to say 'I wouldn't bother', and then leaves. 

Grantaire stands there for what feels like forever, the atmosphere in the room changing from anger to sadness when he sits back down.

Enjolras' mood doesn't shift at all, simply staying angry as he makes his way back home. 

That was pointless.

\-----------TWO DAYS LATER-----------

Grantaire isn't quite sure why he allowed Jehan to drag him to the meeting tonight. The last thing he wants to do it be put in the same room as Enjolras and alcohol.

Enjolras is not doubting his presence at the meeting. His work is his life, put simply, and he's not going to jeopardise it. He is, however, doubting Grantaire's presence.

Grantaire sighs, rubbing at his red eyes and diverts his gaze to anywhere but Enjolras, trying hard to go as unnoticed as possible.

Enjolras is doing his best to ignore Grantaire entirely, and it seems to be working okay for him.

Grantaire knows he could leave and go home but Jehan's by the door and he wouldn't be able to escape that easily. That's what it would be, escaping.

Enjolras, leaning over a map spread out on a table, decides to talk to Combeferre, Courfeyrac and Feuilly alone at the moment. That's safer.

Two days. Two days there and two days after the fall out. Everything is too completed.

Two days, Enjolras thinks despite himself. That's a brand new record for his relationships lasting. Perhaps he's better off alone like he'd originally thought.

I was really stupid, Grantaire thinks, how did I ever imagine it would actually work? All he wants to do is solve problems, not care for anyone.

Resuming his thoughts on the plans that are rapidly forming before the four men, Enjolras pushes thoughts of emotion beside. Those are for late nights when he can't sleep.

Grantaire looks down at the notepad he has on the table and rips the page out, crumpling it. Even subconsciously, he's upset and doodling dark shapes and hearts; what is he? A teenage girl?

Enjolras looks up momentarily at the sound of a rip, but finding no immediate problems, he looks down again.

Does he know how beautiful he is? The question pops into Grantaire's head and becomes the newest doodle with swirling letters and mini pictures round the side.

'No' would be the answer to that question, because anyone's beauty is the last thing on Enjolras' mind. He's swiftly falling into his usual working state of mind - nothing crosses his mind but the plans ahead.

Does he know I care? Grantaire turns the page, not bothered by the fact he's turning a little bit Jehan-like.

Again, that answer would be no - not at the moment, anyway. Enjolras knows nothing but plans and politics and police patrols at the moment, and he's happy to stay like that.

I could leave my heart here for him but he'd never know it was there.   
Grantaire shuts the notepad and shoves his away from him a little, closing his eyes.

It's then that Combeferre straightens up and says they should ask the others what they think so far, and so Enjolras reluctantly leaves his happy state of work and turns to the people in the room.

Enjolras presents the plans to the group, who seem mostly on board with the idea.

Grantaire opens his eyes, trying to find the loopholes in this particular plan. Not that he's going to share them.

Enjolras can see Grantaire out of the corner of his eye, but frankly he's not going to ask for the loopholes. After all, he's not supposed to be solving problems anymore, or so the cynic seemed to suggest.

After finding two, Grantaire gets to his feet. He needs a drink and Enjolras does not get a say in this one.

Enjolras takes the silence from the artist as a yes - everyone else has voiced their opinions - and sets the map down again.

Taking a bottle from the bar, Grantaire returns to his seat, grateful for the taste on his lips.

Enjolras summarises the rest of the vaguely outlined plans they have, ignoring Grantaire still.

Enjolras doesn't care… figures. Grantaire allows himself to drink his problems away, slightly disappointed- not that he'd admit to that- that Enjolras doesn't care enough to stop him.

Checking the time, Enjolras notices it's drawing near to café closing time. With one final summary, he lets the others come and see the map more closely, stepping back.

Grantaire folds his arms on the table and rests his head on top, hiding the emotions visible on his face he's refusing to let others see.

Enjolras leans against the wall, conversing with Bossuet about something and still pointedly facing away from Grantaire.

Everything suddenly just becomes too much and Grantaire crosses to the door and leaves, his notepad and bottle still on the table.

Enjolras only looks over when he hears the door shut, but he doesn't do anything to stop Grantaire - he can tell it was him. Let him go.

Grantaire gets half way down the street before he has to sit down. On the curb, beside a streetlight, he pulls his knees close to his chest.

When the meeting disbands and everyone starts to go home, Enjolras is the last to leave. The map is folded up in his bag and everything else sorted out, he pushes the door open and steps into the night.

Grantaire's still on the curb despite many attempts to take him home. He's got Jehan's jacket around his shoulders.

The streetlights aren't that bright, but Enjolras can definitely make out someone sitting a few metres away. He frowns, recognising Jehan's bright jacket and assuming it's the poet. "Jehan?"

"You wish." Grantaire says. "He's gone home if you want him."

Oh. It's him. "What are you doing?" the blond asks, his tone more guarded now.

"Sitting on a curb." Grantaire shrugs, he can tell Enjolras doesn't want to be talking to him and that breaks him a little inside.

"I can see that. I meant why." Enjolras crosses his arms defensively.

"You know perfectly well why." Grantaire answers sadly. "I'm broken, aren't I?" 

"No." Enjolras replied, his brow creased into a frown.

"Don't deny it. We both know it's true." Grantaire sighs.

"Broken isn't a word I'd use."

"What would you use then? I say broken."

"I would use conflicted."

"Alright. I'm sitting on the curb because I'm conflicted. Better answer?" Grantaire can barely keep the sass out his voice.

"No." Enjolras snaps, his frown turning to a scowl. "it's cold."

"I'll go home eventually." Grantaire says like it gives him the right to be left on the curb.

Enjolras sighs, his breath forming mist in front of him. "Fine."

"Goodnight then." Grantaire waves his hand as if he's shooing Enjolras away although he really wants Enjolras to put up more of a fight.

"Goodnight." Enjolras turns on his heel, not bothering to fight back this time.

Grantaire watches him go and with every step Enjolras take he can feel himself crumbling.

Enjolras doesn't look back, because if he does, he knows he'll cave in.

"Enjolras, I'm sorry." Grantaire calls after him, unable to help himself. He's not sure what he's sorry for but he knows he definitely is sorry for something.

Enjolras stops, but doesn't turn round. "No, you're not sorry."

"What do I have to do to prove I am?"

"I don't know." Enjolras says, but he sounds irritated.

Grantaire says nothing after that; he doesn't have anything left to say.

Enjolras pauses before continuing to walk away.

\------------------------------------------

(Musian now. I need to talk to you. X)

[What do you want, Jehan?]

(I feel it's better done in person. Are you coming? X)

(Don't pretend you have work because I know your shift has finished. X)

[Ten minutes ago.]

[I'll be there in five minutes.]

(I'll get us coffee while I wait. X)

[You don't have to do that.]

(I'm thirsty. X)

[Very well. I'll pay you back when I get there.]

[What is it you want to discuss?]

(I may not be the smartest member of our friends but apparently am I the most aware. X)

[Of what?]

(I have something to show you. X)

[That doesn't answer the question.]

(Like I said before, I feel this is better done in person. You nearly here? X)

[Yes, but just tell me.]

(I will when you're sitting down and you can't easily pretend you're busy. X)

[For God's sake, Jehan, stop playing games.]

(I'm a poet, Enjolras. It's all about reading between the lines. :) X)

[I don't care. This isn't a poem.]

(I thought you said you were nearly here. X)

[I'm just coming up the stairs.]

Jehan's sitting by the window, coffee in one hand and a wild daisy in the other. He looks up when he hears Enjolras on the stairs and waves a little.

Enjolras doesn't wave back, his face marble and expressionless as he crosses the room to where Jehan sits.

"Afternoon, Mr Sourface." Jehan smiles, sipping his coffee.

"I don't have time for stupid names and games." Enjolras replies coldly, sitting down. "Why do you want to speak to me?"

Jehan debates on trying to get him to guess but settles on pulling a notepad from his bag and sliding it across the table. "Tell me what's going on." He says, watching Enjolras' expression.

"Concerning what?" Enjolras asks, raising an eyebrow. He's not giving in that easily.

"Concerning whatever is making you so moody which, I suspect, is to do with this." Jehan taps the notepad before reaching behind him to put the daisy back in his hair.

Enjolras' gaze drops to the notebook at the sound of Jehan tapping it, furrowing his brow. "What is that?"

Jehan ignores his question. "My two best friends are acting weirdly- weirder than usual- and I want to help but I need you to tell me what's going on."

"Well, you seem to know more than I do concerning this." Enjolras gestures to the notebook. "Evidently you wanted to show it to me."

"Yeah." Jehan nods, and takes it back to find the right page. "I found it last night before I left and I didn't realise who's it was so I looked in it..." Jehan turns it round to show him: 'Does he know how beautiful he is?'

Enjolras frowns, before raising his gaze to meet Jehan's. "What does this have to do with me?"

Jehan changes the page. 'Does he know I care?'

"that doesn't answer the question." Enjolras says in response.

'I could leave my heart here for him but he'd never know it was there.'  
"I found this on the table Grantaire was at along with an empty bottle and your name scratched into the table." Jehan explains.

Enjolras raised an eyebrow. That sounded more like something out of a cliché romance film than something that happened in real life. "You're not serious."

Jehan stares at him. "Do you think I'm joking? Even if I was, I also know Grantaire spent all night on the street. Bahorel brought him home this morning; he's delirious and Joly's looking after him while I'm here." Jehan sighs, frowning a little. "They might not realise but something happened between you two and I want it solved."

Enjolras looks back at him, dead in the eye, but his expression is still empty. "I told him to go home."

Jehan sighs again. "Why are you two arguing, Enjolras?" He asks, sipping his coffee again.

"Because he had a nightmare, wouldn't explain and then left."

"That's not all of it." Jehan shakes his head. "You're both upset about this, Enjolras, don't deny it."

"Well, the alcohol thing and the fact he won't let me help are issues too." Enjolras snaps.

Jehan blinks a few times before setting his coffee down slowly. "You're upset because he won't let you help with his issues?"

"I'm not upset." Enjolras argues, even if that's a lie.

"Alright, you're not but you are incredibly moody. You aren't normally this cutting." Jehan points out. "Has Grantaire apologised?"

"No." Enjolras says crossly. "He said he was sorry but something tells me he didn't particularly mean it."

"Right." Jehan nods calmly. "Why don't you think he means it after what I've told you?"

"Because someone who is sorry doesn't sit on curbs and wait, they do something about it."

"Then why aren't you doing something?" Jehan asks, turning the tables simply.

"I tried! I went to his flat, and that only caused the second part of the argument."

Jehan frowns, fiddling with the end of his braid in silence for a moment. "Grantaire's a very complex person."

Enjolras lets out a harsh, unamused laugh. "Yes, I can see that."

Jehan glares at him. "He also loves you and I don't understand how you're pushing him aside this easily."

"I'm not pushing him aside." Enjolras argues. "This is a two way thing."

"It was your road we found him on." Jehan replies.

"Alright. It's clear you aren't going to try and solve this." Jehan concludes. He pauses for a moment before asking, "do you actually want to solve this?"

"Of course I want to solve it," Enjolras replies defensively, "but I can't do it on my own."

"I'm just checking. Thank you for not throwing anything at me."

Enjolras stayed silent, resisting the urge to now throw something at the poet just to prove him wrong.

"That's all. We can talk about something else or you can storm dramatically out." Jehan smiles sweetly knowing which Enjolras is more likely to choose.

Enjolras clenched his jaw, taking a moment to tilt his chin defiantly at the man opposite him. "You haven't told me how to solve the issue."

"Maybe that's because I want you to figure it out or maybe because I don't know how." Jehan finishes his coffee and tosses his braid back over his shoulder. 

"If you weren't going to tell me how, why did you bother making me come here? You've only worsened the issue." Enjolras spits, angry with Jehan as well now.

"No. I've worked out what's going on because you're both acting weirdly. You wouldn't be like this if you weren't upset, Enjolras. I know you too well for you to pretend you aren't." Jehan can tell Enjolras is getting angrier so he carefully moves everything out if his reach.

Enjolras notices this gesture and pointedly moves the objects back to where they were, rather offended by what he thought was a patronising gesture. "So what if I was?"

"The upset people are often the ones in the wrong." Jehan says, prepared for Enjolras' attack should he offer one.

Enjolras does not attack - at least not physically. He is a man of words and memorable actions, not petty fighting. "How am I in the wrong?"

"Who knows?" Jehan shrugs. "I think you should talk to him but that's just my opinion and Joly won't let you in for at least half an hour."

"I tried talking to him, and look where that got us." Enjolras points out furiously.

"What did you say when you spoke to him? Did you apologise for making him uncomfortable enough to leave?"

"I didn't make him uncomfortable enough to leave, I said he could stay and I only had a few more lines to write."

"You said it was over a nightmare. What was it about?"

"He wouldn't tell me." Enjolras replies crossly. "I told you that."

"Think about why he wouldn't tell you using the word uncomfortable." Jehan takes Enjolras' untouched coffee. "Can I?" He asks.

Enjolras waves his hand in a go-ahead gesture, before crossing his arms tightly over his chest. "I don't know why he got uncomfortable."

"Did he at all mention you in his nightmare?" Jehan asks before sipping Enjolras' coffee; it's cold now but still drinkable.

Enjolras tries to think back to it, frowning. "I don't think so- maybe. He was mumbling."

"I'm sure there's a reason he got uncomfortable and left and doesn't want to discuss it so leave it and move on." Jehan puts the coffee down, pulling a face. "That really is too cold to drink."

Enjolras ignores this comment entirely. "Fine. But he still won't let me help him with other things."

"How long had you been together for?"

"Two days."

"Two days and you're already trying to solve problems he's been struggling with for years?" Jehan isn't sure why he's so surprised though; this is Enjolras. "I don't know if you understand romance and boyfriends but you're meant to support them, not scold them."

"I wasn't scolding him." Enjolras snaps, scowling. "Are you saying you've been close to him for years and haven't done anything to help?"

"Not at all. He doesn't want my help but I look out for him. Limited bottles of alcohol in the kitchen, checking of red paint and his arms on regular occasions." Jehan reminds him. "He's not a child; he just needs friends to be there for him when he needs us."

"I didn't say he was a child- he's two years older than me." Enjolras feels like he's getting told off now.

"You're treating him like one though. He's been fine with everything until you stirred everything up." Jehan can't help but feel rather guilty for having to insult Enjolras like this but if this solves the problem...

"Oh, so these year-long problems are my fault now?" Enjolras asks, his voice dangerously level.

"No but reminding him they're there hasn't done any good." Jehan is suck in between giving up and persisting.

"Obviously neither has your approach, because they're still there." Enjolras points out cuttingly.

"Oh for gods sake, get the stick out your arse, Enjolras, and go apologise to him." Jehan sighs, grabbing his bag and getting to his feet. "Bring me some flowers too." He adds, leaving the notepad for Enjolras to have.

Enjolras watches him go, silently fuming, before standing up and grabbing the notebook before leaving.

\------------------------------------------

Enjolras presses the doorbell twice in quick succession before folding his arms. This was a familiar situation, and not one he liked.

"He's in his room." Jehan answers the door, allowing Enjolras in with no hint of the warmth he normally had for his friends.

Enjolras nods curtly, showing no sign of warmth back, and steps past him towards Grantaire's room.

"Do you want to stay for dinner?" Jehan asks, shutting the door and heading back to the kitchen.

"I don't think I'll be welcome." Enjolras says, pausing before tapping on Grantaire's door.

"Come in but don't knock over the paint." Grantaire calls from inside, grabbing his shirt and pulling it over his head quickly.

Enjolras pushes the door open, wary of paint but not wary of much else. 

"I don't know what Jehan said to you or you to him but he really isn't happy right now." Grantaire comments, refusing to turn round and look at Enjolras.

"Neither am I." the blond replied coolly, his arms crossed as he leant against the now-closed door. 

"Brilliant. Just what I need; two pissed off blonds." Grantaire sighs, focusing on his work.

"We need to sort this out." Enjolras says simply.

"If sorting requires me to sort out my problems like that then the answer is no."

Enjolras scowls. "I've already been told off by Jehan for that, alright?"

"Sorry. I didn't know." Grantaire puts his brush in the water pot and runs a hand through his hair.

Enjolras sighs, looking away from the man in front of him.

"What do you want me to do to make us OK again?" Grantaire turns round finally. There's paint smudged around his face and his eyes from where he's been rubbing away tears.

"I don't know." the blond says exasperatedly, though he's supposed to be the one with ideas.

"Then why can't you believe me when I say I'm sorry?" Grantaire asks quietly.

"Because- you're not exactly making a huge effort to solve this."

"Open the bottom draw and tell that to the thousand post-it notes I was going to stick on your door tonight." Grantaire smiles sadly, kicking said draw gently with his bare foot.

"A thousand post-it notes aren't going to fix anything." Enjolras replies, perhaps a little harshly - he doesn't care anymore.

"What do I have to do then? You can say it won't work if you can't…" Grantaire pauses, nearly saying help me, "tell me where I have to aim for."

"I feel we need to have a sensible discussion." Enjolras pauses. "Or rather, Jehan thinks so."

"Jehan is often wrong." Grantaire quotes himself, kicking at the carpet.

"Jehan is often right."

Grantaire can't help but smile a little. "Shut up." He says with no heat behind the words as he's merely acting out a previous conversation.

"No." Enjolras knows they're repeating old conversation, but he won't fall into that trap from now.

"You were right. I don't like arguing with you." Grantaire's face falls and he sits down on the edge of his bed. "I hate it because I feel like the guilty one all the time knowing you're mad and it's my fault."

"I am angry." Enjolras replies bluntly. "And it is your fault."

"And I am truly sorry that there is nothing I can do to apologise because I mean every word I say from this point: you are the only thing I believe in in this world and I am sorry that that isn't enough and I'm sorry I've torn us apart." Grantaire swallows hard.

Enjolras is silent then, because he realises he's gone a little too far.

"You can leave now if you want. I'll tell Jehan you apologised so maybe he'll forgive you too." Grantaire says, his voice wavering slightly.

Enjolras sighs, his arms still folded tightly. "No, I'm not leaving until we've solved it."

"And it is?"

"Our issue."

"Be less vague."

"The fact you won't let me help you, or indeed know anything about your problems."

"Do you want me to write a list?" Grantaire asks, getting up to find some paper.

"Go ahead."

Grantaire sits back down again and starts writing.  
• Death of mother when three  
• Alcoholic father  
• Alcoholic self  
• Self doubt  
• Cynicism  
• Fighting tendencies   
• Emotional turmoil- permanently

Enjolras taps his fingers against his arm idly as he waits, thinking this must be quite a long list.

• Uni dropout  
• Struggling artist  
• Little income  
• Past drug use  
• Smoking habit- recently solved  
• You- not that I have anything against you

Grantaire finishes and hands Enjolras the paper. "Those are what I think of off the top of my head."

Enjolras reads it over quickly, his brow furrowing. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologise. It's just the facts." Grantaire shrugs, doodling absentmindedly on the back of his hand.

Enjolras reaches for the pen, adding another problem onto the list.   
•Current argument with above reason.

"Because we both didn't know about that one." Grantaire jokes.

"Of course not." Enjolras replies, deadpan, and hands the list back. "It is, however, one we can fix."

"Fine. I'll cross out the ones you most certainly can't fix." Grantaire takes the sheet back and draws neat lines through about half, leaving the rest.  
• Alcoholic self  
• Self doubt  
• Fighting tendencies  
• Emotional turmoil- permanently  
• You- not that I have anything against you  
• Current argument with above reason

"That leaves us with six fixable problems." Enjolras counts. 

"Debatably fixable problems." Grantaire corrects him.

"There's no debate about it. Only how long it will take and the method."

"Do I have to pin it to my door like a teenage girl?"

"If you so wish."

"Not really, thanks." Grantaire rolls his eyes, his smile returning slowly.

"Suit yourself." Enjolras pauses, not smiling. "Look, at least now we're getting somewhere."

"You're still grumpier than usual." Grantaire points out.

"Yes, well- you can hardly expect me to suddenly be sunshine and rainbows."

"I would never expect sunshine and rainbows." Grantaire shakes his head. "I just thought you might be less moody if I was cooperative for once."

"I'm not being moody." Enjolras protests, but it's a shallow argument.

"You are. Your face is so expressionless it's a wonder you aren't a robot." Grantaire smirks.

"I'm not a robot." As if to prove him wrong, Enjolras scowls horribly.

Grantaire is rather tempted to kiss the scowl off his face but he's 99% positive that would be a bad move. "What are we now?" He asks instead.

"I don't know." Enjolras says truthfully. He really doesn't know if they're friends, boyfriends, or anything at all.

"Neither do I." Grantaire sighs. He knows what he wants to be but he doesn't know how it would work out considering last time.

Enjolras bites his lip, looking conflicted. "We can hardly just pretend this didn't happen."

"I suppose." Grantaire frowns, looking down at his hands. 

Enjolras still looks at the man, though he's looking away. "Jehan won't be pleased with this."

"Why not? What did he say?" 

"Well, he's not very pleased with me in general- he won't be happy if we're glaring daggers at each other."

"Alright then so that rules out ignoring each other."

"Exactly."

"Honestly, having to be just friends with you would probably kill me a little inside." Grantaire admits.

"Right." That puts some pressure on to get things back to how they were, but frankly Enjolras isn't sure that can happen again.

"But I'm mostly dead there so just friends?" Grantaire looks up at him, expectantly.

"Mostly dead where?" That didn't make much sense to Enjolras.

"My heart, my soul. Whichever." 

"Right."

"I heard Jehan offer you dinner. Are you staying?" Grantaire changes the subject quickly.

"I can." Enjolras says, though he thinks it'll be a bit awkward.

"You don't have to if you feel uncomfortable." Grantaire adds. "I totally understand if you don't wanna stay."

"I can't imagine Jehan will want to speak to me."

"Alright." Grantaire says. "I'll talk him round and he'll be fine by tomorrow."

"No." Enjolras protests. "This is my issue and I will solve it."

Grantaire refrains from pointing out that that is exactly what he wants because Enjolras would never agree.

Enjolras folds his arms pointedly, heading to open the door.

"I'll see you around then." Grantaire smiles, trying his best to look happy.

"Perhaps." This feels too much like a goodbye to Enjolras, but he feels it's for the best.

Grantaire lets his smile fall a little before quickly fixing it. "Perhaps." He echoes, his tone letting out more emotion then he wants it to.

Enjolras nods swiftly, thinking this'll be easier if it's quick. "Goodbye."

Grantaire is positive he can hear something breaking during the two syllables. It sounds like a final goodbye, not a friendly one. "Bye."

Enjolras takes a final glance at him, as if savouring the image, and leaves.


	4. End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter where it ends happily.

What does y.e.s spell?

Yes?

It spells no. Welcome to the real world.

[in trying to persuade Becca to do something, we stumbled across a rather accurate description of life.]  
\-----------------------------------------

Enjolras taps his fingers idly on the glass of his hotel room window, the sunlight slowly heating up the morning outside. He's getting lonely, and bored without enough work to do.

Grantaire is basically the same, staring out at the sunrise but he's trying to forget the vast amounts of work he has to do.

Enjolras wonders how the others are getting on back in Paris, carefully avoiding thoughts of Grantaire. Three more days and this trip will be over.

Three more days and he'll be back. Grantaire isn't sure whether he finds that positive or negative but, at least with Enjolras gone, he doesn't have to worry about accidental meetings.

Enjolras moves to sit on the bed, staring at the opposite wall for a moment before getting his laptop.

Grantaire doesn't miss Enjolras though; he's refusing to. He isn't allowed so he's not. Not missing him at all.

Enjolras misses Paris and his friends. He does not miss the arguments, tension and the stern look and request to "fix this" Combeferre left him with at the airport.

Not missing him. Grantaire falls back on his bed, sighing and covering his eyes with his arm.

Enjolras opens up his emails, deleting some spam before tapping out an email to send to all the Amis. 

How many days has he been gone? Like two. That's not long. Stop acting like a child, Grantaire chides himself, you don't miss him.

[To all:  
Attached is some notes I have made over the last few days' worth of lectures- if you could take a look at them before our next meeting, that would be convenient. I think they will be of interest; these speakers talk of rights for all, and explanations of the solutions to our problem are also involved.   
Merci,  
Enjolras.]

And he isn't missing you either. Grantaire groans and then falls off his bed trying to grab his phone when it pings. He reads the email, his heart rate dropping with every word. See, a little voice says in the back of his head, not missing you.

Contrary to this, Enjolras is missing Grantaire. Hours alone have given him plenty of time to mull over what he'd said, and bitterly regret it, but he won't apologise.

Fortunately, Grantaire's phone is a Nokia and it's journey across the room only leaves a minor dent in the wall instead of breaking the phone. "Why should he miss you?" Grantaire asks himself, almost furious with himself. "It's all your fault, anyhow."

Shutting his laptop again, Enjolras gets up. If he can't clear his own mind, maybe a walk through town will. 

He needs a drink right now but he can't because he's trying to change. It's hard, very hard, but for Enjolras... who doesn't miss him. Conflicted was definitely the right word.

The air is crisp and cool outside, but Enjolras' thoughts don't change very much. Unfortunately.

It's like a game really, Grantaire pictures it, one their either both win or both lose... or he just loses.

Half an hour later Enjolras returns to the hotel, his attempts to clear his mind having had no results at all.

Grantaire's attempts to clear his own head have resulted in sitting at the back of Starbucks, sketching Enjolras onto a spare napkin he pinched from the counter.

Enjolras makes his way to his next lecture with a notepad and pen, silent.

"Hey." A woman leans over Grantaire's table suddenly, throwing it into shadow. "You're the one dating the barista, right? My friend wanted me to check 'cause she's a bit weird." 

"Uh, I was. Yeah." Grantaire frowns, staring rather quizzically at her; does she even know him?

"Was?" The woman looks rather surprised and turns to wave her friend over. Great, Grantaire thinks, he has to talk to two crazy girls about Enjolras. Brilliant.

"He said was. That's not good." The woman explains to her friend who nods. 

"You're drawing him on the napkin, aren't you?" The friend says, pointing.

Grantaire pulls his drawing back, defensively. "Look, girls. I don't know either of you and it was a difficult breakup so I'd rather not." He stops because they've already nodded and scurried off. 

It wouldn't surprise Grantaire if those girls turn out to be the spies of one of his friends. Éponine maybe or possibly Combeferre; he seems to be the one with the most knowledge about everything. Maybe they're like his little army of teenagers.

Settling into his usual seat at the front and to the left of the lecturer, Enjolras begins to switch his mind onto work.

Oblivious to the happenings back at home, Enjolras begins to make notes as the lecturer speaks. There's people on either side of him, but he doesn't speak to them.

Slowly but surely, Enjolras focuses solely on the notes he's taking and the ideas he can take back to Paris with him.

The lecture finishes after an hour and a half, and Enjolras unwillingly gets up to leave. His mind is buzzing and he thinks maybe, just maybe, he's managed to distract himself.

After being kicked out for spending too long in Starbucks without buying something, Grantaire finds himself wandering round the streets, music playing through his headphones.

The last day's lecture has been cancelled, Enjolras finds out with some disappointment- but now he can return tomorrow evening.

That's when Grantaire stops outside a shop and does a few steps back. Slowly pulling his headphones down around his neck, he considers how much he'd be hated for his new decision.

Enjolras makes his way back to his hotel room, opening up his laptop.

It's about an hour later that Grantaire returns home with his right shoulder and left wrist bandaged and large box under his arm.

Grantaire has played guitar before- he learnt when he was 14- but he hasn't played since he moved out and the guitar vanished. His sister has been suspect ever since.

Playing comes surprisingly naturally back to him as he sits on his bed, laptop with chords in front of him and legs crossed beneath him. He can't do much current due to the soreness of his shoulder but he's pleased he can still play. Now he just has to wait for people's opinions on the tattoos.

It would have been really easy just to get one but Grantaire doesn't do easy. He spend about five minutes on the design for the tattoo artist- called Mark, Grantaire got his number- which ended up as one word on his wrist- believe- and two tattoos on his shoulder- one front, one back. His back has all his friends names in tiny writing with curls and flicks and the front… that's more complicated. 

With swirls that almost seem to move, to anyone but him the lines that now spread his shoulder- and a little way down his arm- are just decorative; the little music notes they curve into purely art work. As he planned, the notes they form are in waltz time but they're so minute that it's almost not important. 

'"There's no one to dance with"'  
'"There's me"'

\-----------------------------------------

Not that Grantaire would admit it but he actually feels a lot more relaxed with Combeferre leading the meeting. He doesn't feel like his opinions will be bashed as much and, sketching poster designs onto an A4 sheet in front of him, he's definitely relaxed.

Enjolras' flight was delayed by an hour and a half. This has not made him very happy, but nevertheless he is pleased to see the familiar airport he left from.

Well, maybe not that relaxed.

"Taire? You OK?" Jehan asks when he shakes his arm for the fifth time in about ten minutes; he's still rather sore.

"Huh? Yeah, I'm fine. Why?" Grantaire turns to stare at his flatmate who doesn't look very convinced.

"You look-" Jehan pauses, "- uncomfortable, I guess."

It takes ten minutes or so for Enjolras to get home, having dragged his suitcase onto the bus and off again at the right stop. He might be able to catch the end of today's meeting if he's quick.

"Just a little achy." Grantaire shrugs, prompting a little cough from behind him.

"More like inky." Feuilly winks, leaning over to pull his shirt back a bit.

"Oi!" Grantaire protests, slapping his hands away. "That's harassment!"

Shoving his clothes from the last few days into the washing machine, Enjolras hurriedly unpacks the rest of his things.

There's a rather interested silence now as Feuilly and Grantaire end up fighting a little but it's rather obvious who's going to win.

"Come on, R. Show us!" Feuilly begs, catching his wrist and then laughing. "One down." 

Checking his phone for messages - one from Combeferre telling him the meeting is going fine and one from Courfeyrac asking if he's home yet - Enjolras shrugs his jacket on.

"Get off me, you psychotic maniacs!" Grantaire yelps as the others crowd round and Feuilly bends his wrist to show them. 

"That's really cute, 'Taire." Jehan giggles. "What's on your shoulder then?"

Enjolras pulls the door open without so much as a second glance at his flat, heading out into the darkening street. 

"Oh move away." Grantaire shoos them back, getting to his feet and pulling at the back of his shirt. He turns round to show them their names first- one letter from each in red spelling out 'revolution'.

Enjolras gets there soon enough, pushing open the door where he can hear chatter and laughter. He looks in, recognising his friends in the familiar back room, and- Grantaire.

"Bloody hell, Jehan, your hands are colder than ice." Grantaire complains as Jehan trails down the ink across his collarbone and arm on his front. 

"When did you get these?" Jehan asks, ignoring Grantaire complaining.

"Same day as the guitar."

Enjolras is silent as he listens, letting the door shut quietly behind him. Grantaire seems to have some tattoos, which are apparently new.

"D'you design them?" Bahorel has his wrist, admiring the letters there while Feuilly takes a photo of their names. 

"'Course. I also got the artist's number." Grantaire smirks and Bahorel wolf whistles. No one has really noticed Enjolras' presence.

Enjolras is sure he feels something break inside him at that - not snap, but crumble. "The beginnings of a fairytale, I'm sure."

Grantaire is rather proud when he doesn't even blink at Enjolras' words. "I'm sure it will be." He replies, turning round to face him. "Nice time in Switzerland?"

He wants to say no. He wants to say that he missed everyone, he missed even the Parisian air, but he just nods curtly.

Grantaire doesn't get to say much more after that as his friends rush to Enjolras' side to welcome him home. He simply pulls his shirt back on and sits down again.

Enjolras waves off his friends' welcomes, tearing his gaze from Grantaire eventually. "How is the meeting going?"

"Good. I'm sure I can't do it quite as well as you however." Combeferre smiles. "It's good to have you back, Enjolras."

"I am sure you are doing fine." Enjolras reassured his best friend. "It is nice to be back. What were you discussing?"

"We were mostly just filling in the gaps we had. Nothing too exciting." Combeferre explains quickly. 

Enjolras nods, his gaze flicking to Grantaire once before moving away again. 

Grantaire notices this but ignores it, putting it to the back of his mind as he begins designing again.

Enjolras decides he's going to focus on talking to Combeferre, which he does for a while. 

Grantaire has his phone on the table beside him, texting Mark and smiling at the responses he gets. 

Enjolras doesn't notice this at first- but when he does, his mind begins to tick over. Who's that? Did Grantaire ever do that with his texts?

The answer is yes but of course Enjolras wouldn't know. Grantaire laughs out loud suddenly before looking around sheepishly and returning to his work.

Enjolras hears that and looks up sharply, before hurriedly glancing away again as if trying to pretend it didn't happen.

Humming under his breath, Grantaire finishes the design and brushes the rubbings off the table.

Enjolras gets up after ten minutes or so- blaming tiredness for the first time in his life, he makes to leave.

"We may as well all go too." Combeferre decides. "Let's clear up, gentlemen." He adds, folding his work cleanly and quickly. 

Enjolras didn't mean to make any sort of commotion amongst the others, but he waits by the door for a moment.

"You alright?" Grantaire appears beside him, arms folded. 

Enjolras almost jumps before scowling down at his shoes. "Fine."

Grantaire considers this, not believing a word. "That's good." He says finally. 

Enjolras is silent then, trying to think of civil conversation. "When did you get those tattoos?"

"Yesterday. You like them?" Grantaire smiles, pleased Enjolras is talking to him rather than scowling. 

"They're interesting." In truth, Enjolras didn't see in much detail.

"Thanks." Grantaire laughs a little. "It was a spur of the moment decision but I like them."

Enjolras nods, crossing his arms. "Well, it's your body."

"True. True." Grantaire agrees, looking down at his phone and the new message. "I better be going." He says after typing a quick reply. "I'll see you around."

Enjolras nods, trying not to notice the phone in Grantaire's hand. "I should go too. Have fun with your..tattoo artist."

"He's studying law too." Grantaire rolls his eyes before turning and leaving, boots clicking softly.

Enjolras is about to reply when Grantaire leaves, and a familiar feeling of disappointment hits him.

\-----------------------------------------

Enjolras sits alone, his dinner mostly untouched as he idly scrolls down a webpage. He's researching for his law essay, but not really interested.

{i love you too.}

{oh, sorry enjolras. that was meant to go to someone else.}

[Okay.]  
One simple word can't convey the way Enjolras' heart sinks, but he types it anyway.

Grantaire wonders how that sent to Enjolras instead of his mum. Their names both start with 'e', he supposes, setting his phone down.

Maybe this tattoo artist will start coming along to meetings soon, Enjolras thinks dejectedly.

"Grantaire. Pizza's done." Grantaire gets to his feet and heads to the kitchen. Mark hands him a plate, smiling. 

Enjolras remembers he has dinner in front of him, but he's not hungry. He continues to ignore it, typing something out.

"How's the shoulder?" Mark asks between slices, both men sitting on the counter top. 

"Fine- hey!" Grantaire nearly falls off as Mark shoves him hard. "Surely that's bad for it."

"I'm a professional." Mark shrugs. "You'll live."

Enjolras eventually figures it might be an idea to eat, but his pasta is cold and he stops after a few bites.

"You're crazy." Grantaire laughs, finishing his pizza and setting the plate down. "Mario Kart?" 

"And my friends called me weird for giving you my number." Mark answers, jumping off the counter and taking Grantaire with him.

Enjolras reaches for a book Jehan lent him before realising he have it back, and he needs it now. Sighing, he gets up to go and ask to borrow it again.

"Hey!" Mark laughs, shoving Grantaire away as he tries to snatch his controller. 

"Mind the corner." Grantaire smirks before bumping him off, laughing. His mind has never been so far from Enjolras in the entire time he's know him.

Enjolras takes a breath - what if Grantaire's home? - before knocking on the door, hoping beyond hope alone that it's Jehan who answers.

"Someone's at the door." Mark sings, unpausing the game every time Grantaire pauses it. 

"I can tell. Oh my god, fine!" Grantaire sighs and gets up, letting Mark continue racing. He crosses to the door and opens it. "Oh, hey Enjolras."

Enjolras freezes with wide eyes at the sight of Grantaire, regaining his composure after a moment but still slightly surprised. "Uh- is Jehan home?"

"He's out with Courf actually." Grantaire answers. 

"More like in with Courf." Mark chips in, laughing and Grantaire flips him off.

"Can I help you with anything?"

Enjolras casts a quick glance at the man sitting in Grantaire's flat- his tattoo artist boyfriend, he assumes. He moved on quickly, the blond thinks. "I wanted to ask to borrow a book."

"I'm sure Jehan won't mind. His rooms down there if you wanna grab it. I'll tell him you're borrowing it." Grantaire smiles brightly.

"I- okay. Thank you." Enjolras doesn't want to make eye contact with either of the two men, because he knows it's going to frustrate him even further that he couldn't do the right thing in the first place.

Grantaire steps back to allow Enjolras in and closes the door. "Down there." He points before rejoining Mark on the floor. "You suck, Mark." He glares, punching Mark's shoulder gently.

Enjolras nods, heading to find the book and doing his best to ignore the two of them and the sinking feeling in his stomach.

"So that's Enjolras, huh?" Mark whispers when Enjolras can no longer hear.

"Yeah. Oh don't look at me like that." Grantaire hisses when Mark pulls a rather puppy-like face. "I'm not doing introductions because this isn't making him jealous plus I don't want him hating you." Mark continues staring at him.

Enjolras finds the right book quickly enough, taking a moment to flip to the page he needs to check it's the right book before leaving the room.

"Mark. The answer is no." Grantaire sighs and then squeaks when Mark kisses him quickly. 

"Fine. I'll just have to thrash you instead." Mark smirks, knowing he timed the kiss perfectly for Enjolras to see.

Enjolras stops dead in his tracks, seeing the two men kiss. It's like someone's slapped him back into reality from his puzzled, mourning state, and he quickly moves to leave. 

"Let me see Enjolras out." Grantaire kicks Mark, blushing furiously and gets back up to open the door.

Enjolras is pulling open the door with the intent of leaving without saying goodbye when he sees Grantaire appear, but he doesn't turn to face him properly. 

Grantaire opens the door for him, biting his lip. He wants to apologise for Mark but why should he? Enjolras didn't want to be with him like that anyway. 

Enjolras meets his gaze momentarily, before muttering a quick 'thank you' and stepping outside briskly.

"See ya." Grantaire closes the door smiling but it quickly leaves his face. "Mark, what the hell?" He yells.

Enjolras walks away without another word, his gaze focused on the pavement in front of him and his mind reeling.

"I wanted to see if he would be jealous." Mark just smiles. Grantaire runs a hand through his hair. 

"What if he thinks I like you though? What if he thinks it's OK just to leave me? Mark!" Grantaire is stressed out now, every part of him screaming something different.

Enjolras is jealous, to put it lightly. To put it more complexly, he feels like he's being torn in multiple different directions, finding hatred directed towards this tattoo artist, and towards Grantaire, and himself.

"Hey, calm down." Mark sighs. "Come here." He opens his arms and Grantaire almost falls into him. "It's gonna be alright, you know."

Enjolras gets home at some point - he's not sure when - and settles down to do his work again, hoping he can distract himself.

"Thanks, Mark." Grantaire says once he feels more under control of his emotions. 

"Anytime, 'Taire." Mark smiles. "Wasn't I gonna thrash you though?"

"You wanna go?" Grantaire grins.

Enjolras sits back down with the book, finding the pages he needed. It occurs to him that he could talk to Combeferre about this, but he doesn't.

"What am I gonna say to him now though?" Grantaire asks. They aren't playing anymore because Grantaire can't stop worrying.   
"I can talk to him. Give me his number."

Enjolras is just finishing typing by this point, his chin resting on his hand.

"No way." Grantaire shakes his head. "I have to do it. I'm the one in love with him, aren't I?"

Saving the document, Enjolras does nothing for a moment before standing up. Maybe sleep is a good idea.

"Oh Grantaire." Mark sighs sadly. "He loves you too, I'm sure."

Enjolras goes to his bedroom, not bothering to change before just collapsing on the bed.

"I doubt it. He can't even put one argument behind him so how could he love me?" 

Enjolras shuts his eyes, but for the first time sleep does not come straight away. He's too busy puzzling out the situation.

"Love is a strange think, Grantaire. Often people try to ignore it, hoping it will pass but you can never escape it entirely." Mark says then looks at the time. "I should get home. My boyfriend will be waiting." 

Enjolras is slowly getting more and more frustrated with the situation, but he can't solve it. This makes it worse.

Grantaire closes the door after Mark and drags himself to bed, lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling.

Enjolras sighs, tossing and turning for a while. He can't think straight like this.

Grantaire stares at the empty space beside him, thinking back to the night he could look and find Enjolras there.

Enjolras is thinking the same, though he'd never admit it. Eventually he falls asleep, restless.

\------------------------------------------

Grantaire's rather proud he's managed to hold onto his busking licence for so many years. He's not sure he counts as a busker mind, sitting on a park bench and playing guitar, singing along softly. He's also not sure how he attracted so many people over either.

Enjolras isn't sure why he's ended up in the park. Despite living five minutes away for two years, he's never cared to go there before- but he finds himself sitting by a tree.

"Any requests, ladies?" Grantaire asks, smiling charmingly at them and making them blush. One suggests One Direction and Grantaire laughs.   
"You know 'Happily'?" He asks, starting to play, his eyes never leaving hers.

Enjolras starts at the sound of an all-too-familiar voice, looking round only to see the cause of his problems. He sighs, turning away again.

"Yeah but play Half A Heart!" Another girl says and Grantaire changes tune almost instantly. "Fussy, you lot are." He jokes before starting to sing. 

'So your friends been telling me, you've been sleeping with my sweater,'

Enjolras can't help but listen. He doesn't want to, but he does, the soft sounds of Grantaire and his guitar floating across the park like sweet torture.

'Bet my friends been telling you, I'm not doing much better, 'cause I'm missing half of me'  
The more of it Grantaire sings, the more he begins to recognise the girl who suggested it. He can also see how well it's going to relate to him.

Enjolras rests his head against the tree, closing his eyes in frustration. Why does this song have to speak more than just words to him?

'And being here without you is like I'm waking up to, only half a blue sky, kinda there but not quite,'  
She's the girl from the café, Grantaire realises suddenly. She's also trouble.

Enjolras feels like he wants to punch something or cry, but having some ounce of self-control, he does neither.

'I'm walking around with just one shoe, I'm half a heart without you,'  
Grantaire temporarily forgets the meaning in the song, worried about why this girl is so reoccurring in his life. This better be the last time.

Enjolras stands up then, on the verge of going over- but Grantaire has visitors and he won't interrupt yet.

'Im half a man at best, with half an arrow in my chest, I miss everything we do, I'm half a heart without you,'  
Grantaire notices the blond out the corner of his eye, hoping that it isn't him; not during this song.

It is him. And he walks over then, his hands in his coat pockets and his face fallen.

'Forget all we said that night, no it doesn't event matter,'   
And the café girl knows, smiling. Grantaire can't deny, that was rather smooth of her. 

Enjolras vaguely recognises one of the girls, but he doesn't care at the moment. All he knows is Grantaire and his fingers gently strumming the strings and the words he sings.

'Cause be both got spilt in two, if you could spare an hour or so, we'll go for lunch down by the river, we can really talk it through,'  
Grantaire refuses to meet Enjolras' eyes, staring down at his hands or looking at the girls.

Enjolras is silent, his gaze barely leaving Grantaire even though he can feel the girls' gaze practically shining lasers at both men.

'And being here without you is like waking up to half a blue sky, kinda there but not quite, walking around with just one shoe, I'm half a heart without you,'  
Every word he sings doesn't feel like a cover anymore, he's not duplicating but meaning every word he says. He hopes Enjolras sees that.

"Grantaire." Enjolras speaks without knowing his reasoning, hoping to get his point across whilst he's still got the courage.

'I'm half a man at best, with half an arrow in my chest, I miss everything we do, I'm half a heart without you,'  
Grantaire finishes there, raising his eyes to meet Enjolras' gaze. "I'm half a heart without you." He repeats.

Enjolras blinks, because he was just expecting something like 'what?', but it only hurts more this way. "Then why-?"

"He wanted to see if you were jealous. He's got a boyfriend." Grantaire answer softly, only vaguely aware of the girls shuffling people away.

"He wanted to see- what was the point of that?" Enjolras takes a breath, trying not to get angry.

"God knows. I had no part in it, I swear." Grantaire would raise his hands but he doesn't want to drop his guitar, balanced dangerously across his lap.

Enjolras sighs, looking at his shoes. "I - thought about what I said."

"Forget all we said that night, it doesn't even matter." Grantaire quotes. "I can move on if you can."

Enjolras pauses, hoping that's really true, before he nods. "Still, I'm sorry." he apologises with some difficulty.

Grantaire sets his guitar down and stands up. "So am I so I guess that makes us even."

"I suppose it does." Enjolras can barely contain his hope that this is a new start for them both. 

"Lunch by the river?" Grantaire asks, quoting to the song yet again, smiling for what feels like the first time. 

"That sounds like a plan to me." Enjolras agrees, a slight smile coming to his lips.

"Good."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I haven't uploaded this earlier. I'm annoying. I know. Oh well. Final chapter yay.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Leave kudos if you enjoyed because it means a lot. Apologies again for deleting it first time round.


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